


Stars and the Spaces Between

by Bittereloquence



Series: Between the Stars [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Brief Graphic Depictions of Violence, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, Learning to Work Together, M/M, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Writer has no idea how space or physics work, survival situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26726332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittereloquence/pseuds/Bittereloquence
Summary: A Jedi and aMand'alorfind themselves thrust into an untenable situation where they have to put aside their theological differences in order to survive. In doing so, they learn maybe they have more in common with one another than either thought possible.
Relationships: Plo Koon & Jaster Mereel, Pre-Plo Koon/Jaster Mereel
Series: Between the Stars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945153
Comments: 66
Kudos: 194
Collections: High Council Bounty 9/20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started out as my entry for the Star Wars Fanfiction discord Bounty Board challenge for this month. And in my typical fashion, it exploded in size until it was an unruly monster. While I was struggling to come up with a title, I ended up falling down a spiral of listening to Sleeping At Last's Space I & II EP and realized just how applicable pretty much....every song is to Star Wars. So now I'm apparently writing ANOTHER universe based around the EP which I highly recommend you go listen to if you are unfamiliar with it. I actually got the idea of writing Jaster/Plo Koon thanks to some amazing fanart put out by bureau-pinery over on tumblr, realized these two made ALL THE SENSE and am now shipping it like Fedex. Sadly, I could not get Jaster to fall in love over the course of one fanfic and this is now becoming a series. So....sorry? This fic is still being written, I tried to get it completed by tonight but could not manage it but will hopefully manage to finish it off this week if RL cooperates. Not putting myself on any set posting-schedule though so this is a genuine WIP and please be patient with me as I try and finish this.

_Every time we open up our eyes  
I guess space, and time  
Takes violent things, angry things  
And makes them kind _  
-Sleeping At Last: Sun

* * *

In hindsight, Jaster had to admit he’d been a complete and utter _di'kut_ to let his emotions get the best of him. He’d heard rumors that Vizla and his Death Watch had been spotted in the vicinity of Akiva and he’d stupidly leaped right for the bait without questioning if it could be a trap or not. 

At first, things had looked like everything was on the up and up. Jaster had opted to leave Jango and the rest of his True Mandalorians behind because the job he'd thought it was going to be just a simple recon mission, something he could do in his sleep.

He'd met with his contact who had ties to the local underworld and the Hutt who controlled most of the illegal and semi-legal activity on this miserable back-water planet.

It should have clued him off then and there that something was amiss and that leads on Vizla's illusively band of murderers had come too readily. Jaster wasn't typically the kind of man who tunnel-visioned on something so hard that he lost sight of the but picture but the chance to kill Vizla and potentially cut off the head of Death Watch had been too good a lure to pass up. 

He'd walked right into the ambush like a fat nerf served up for the slaughter. 

Jaster had fought tooth and nail but in the end, one of the filthy _hut'uun_ had snuck up behind him and shot him in the back. _Beskar'gam_ could block a lot but at close range, even beskar couldn't completely protect him from the stun-bolt from such close range.He

Pain raked across his nerve-endings like liquid fire and Jaster fell face-first into the muddy street and the blackness of unconsciousness swiftly following before he could even begin to question why they weren't shooting to kill.

* * *

He awoke to find the idiots who'd shot him hadn't bothered to strip him of either his armor or helmet. Jaster felt the familiar metal grating of his ship's deck under him and continued to feign being conscious as he tried to stretch out his senses without giving away the fact he'd regained consciousness.

His ribs ached like he had been kicked by a fathier and he had the bitter taste of bile in his mouth but it beat being dead. He opened one eye a crack and very nearly flinched back because he found himself nearly eye to eye with Kel Door who lay there on the deck in front of him limp and still with the distinctive mask their species needed to survive most atmospheres. 

Jaster had no idea if it was male or female considering his experience with the alien race had been all but zero but the brown and beige robes it wore practically announced to the universe at large that it was a kriffing _Jetii_.

That would be his bad luck to find himself mixed up with one of those mad monk sorcerers.

They weren't the only ones in the cargo bay, Jaster could hear two people arguing, one had the distinctive sibilant hiss of a Trandoshan.

"Boss says we make it look like they liked themselves. Kill the Mando with the Jedi's lightsaber, then shoot the Jedi." The reptile dragged out the syllables of some words like all Trandoshans seemed to do when trying to form certain words in Basic but Jaster recognized that familiar lisp and hiss anywhere.

It took every ounce of Jaster's vaunted self-control to lay there playing dead as his mind raced with possibilities. He wanted to just immediately spring into action because there was no way he was going to let himself be killed in such an ignoble manner without putting up one hell of a fight.

"Seems like a lot of work when we could have just killed them back on Akiva."

“This way it doesn't point to us, idiot. Boss wants the Mandos and Jedi to blame each other and not look our way. Death Watch is paying us generously to solve their Mando problem so just do it. I will disable the nav-computer and remove all traces of us.”

Belatedly, Jaster realized the Jedi wasn’t unconscious like he’d thought because he could see the gleam of the creature’s eyes through the holes in its goggles from this close up. It glanced to the right as though trying to signify something but Jaster wasn’t sure what it was trying to say. He knew the Kel Dor wasn’t able to read his expression courtesy of the helmet he was wearing but he dared tip his head ever so slightly to acknowledge he’d seen that signaling look. 

He suspected the creature was indicating where their attacker was going to come from, a given considering Jaster had two functioning ears. 

_’Please do not be startled or react, I would normally never initiate mental contact without your prior permission but we find ourselves in extenuating circumstances. I suspect our chances of survival will increase exponentially if we can communicate without giving ourselves away.’_

No, now Jaster was discovering just how deep his level of self-control went because it took every scrap of it to bite back a curse and the urge to jerk away from that unwanted mental contact. 

_Haar'chak!_ He hated dealing with the _Jetii_ but knowing they could apparently waltz into his thoughts on a whim was a new level of discomfort and loathing he discovered for the damned sorcerers. Jaster glared at the Kel Dor through the t-shaped visor for a moment but his temper cooled, replaced by a soul-deep pragmatism. He could be angry about the intrusion later if they survived this.

 _’I am sorry, I assure you I would never presume if our situation wasn’t dire. There is a third member of their crew which I sense near the airlock, their pilot I would imagine.’_ The sonorous voice in his head was unmistakably male which answered the question about the creature’s gender. 

_’I know you cannot answer me and I am doing my best to respect your privacy as much as possible, Mandalorian. You have no reason to trust me but I can assure you, I do not wish to die here any more than you do and two unarmed men have a better chance at survival if they work together rather than against one another.’_

Jaster begrudgingly had to admit there was some wisdom in that logic so he did his best to shelf his instantaneous dislike of having a Sithspitting _Jetii_ invading the most intimate privacy of his own mind for later. Instead, he tried to not _think_ about anything too personal or private but instead focused his thoughts on the situation at hand. He had no idea just what the _Jetii_ could read from him unfortunately and this one-sided conversation while better than nothing, definitely presented its own unique problems. 

_’Our captors have both my lightsaber and your pistols I am sorry to say. With luck, the second one will try and dispatch you with my saber first rather than shooting me. I will push him away and you try and disarm him.’_

That was a terrible plan and he hoped the _di'kutla Jetii_ realized it. Jaster would have immediately tried to dispatch the bigger threat which was the Jedi with his strange wizard abilities. 

_’Let us hope our captors are not that intelligent. If he does try and shoot first I will try and use a Force push anyway and hopefully, that will give you a fighting chance, Mandalorian.’_

Wait, he'd heard that thought? Of course he could, he was a damn Jedi who apparently could read his kriffing mind like it was a holobook. This day just kept getting more and more nightmarish. Jaster heard the scrape of boots and realized the two thugs were apparently done with their conversation. Heavy footfalls from the denser and larger Trandoshan started to fade away as it walked towards the cockpit.

Hearing the distinctive, horrifying snap-hiss of a lightsaber being ignited was like having a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Jaster couldn’t help his instinctive tensing knowing this coward was liable to start swinging at him with that damn lightsaber at him any second now. _Beskar'gam_ held up better against lightsaber than nearly any material in the universe but this _hutt'uun_ could still catch him in a place where the steel didn't or couldn't be placed such as his neck. 

He could still be decapitated pretty readily and that made him antsy.

 _'I will not allow him to harm you, Mando. I will not ask you to trust me but do trust that I can sense his intention and right now he is more interested in playing with my lightsaber like it is a toy'_

Jaster didn't need to be a Jedi to pick up the vague hint of derision in the Kel Dor's...what? Voice? Mental voice? He has no idea if the man would sound even remotely similar. Though if he were being honest, he was vaguely surprised to find a saintly _Jetii_ was capable of being judgemental or sarcastic. It definitely didn't align with the image the liked to project to the world at large.

"Wizard, always wanted to try one of these out." The goon breathed in obvious delight as he swung the blade. It whistled through the air and Jaster felt something primal and soul-deep tense up as he momentarily stopped breathing. 

Playing dead wasn't in his nature at all so Jaster was finding it very hard to not leap to his feet now and try to take that idiot out before he took a swing at him.

_'Prepare yourself, Mando, I will count us down from three.'_

He shifted his hand which was mostly hidden beneath his body down to his boot where he could feel the compact blade he had hidden there. It was built into a custom sheath he'd had sewn into the shaft of his boot and was meant for a last means of self-defense. It wasn't even a vibroknife but just a simple metal blade small and slender enough to pass a light pat-down. If these _di'kuts_ had even two brain cells to rub together they might have found it but Jaster wasn't going to look a gift bantha in the mouth. Their sloppiness was his advantage.

_'One..two...three. Now!'_

Jaster rolled smoothly to his feet and watched as the Weequay went flying back into the bulkhead. He followed and managed to pin the alien's arm still holding the lightsaber with his left hand and drove the knife upwards with his right hand into Weequay's throat in between the sets of bony cartilage that protected its throat. He had been trying to sever the brain-stem but Jaster didn’t think his knife was quite long enough to do the job but he’d managed to punch a hole through the alien’s esophagus all the same and blood immediately started to pour from the wound. 

He could see the animal-panic in the Weequay’s eyes but it couldn’t even manage to form words thanks to the damage done to its throat and all it managed was a hoarse, wheezing noise. It would drown on its own blood soon enough but that was a horrible way to die and the longer it took to die, the higher the chances were that someone might hear it. 

Jaster pried the _jetii'kad_ from the Weequay’s hand and was surprised by the weight of the hilt as he brought it up. He felt vaguely unclean in using a _Jetii_ weapon to dispatch his enemy but pragmatism won out over his own moralistic hangups and he cleanly severed the Weequay’s head from its shoulders with one swipe of the burning hot plasma blade. 

Weequay skin was notoriously tough and capable of even repelling some blaster fire so the ease in which it cut through the alien’s neck was horrible and left the Mandalorian feeling vaguely sick to his stomach. It also left a melted slash right in his bulkhead that he would be angry about later. 

For now, he needed to concentrate on staying alive. He wheeled around to ask the face _Jetii_ , a sharp accusation about him apparently leaving him to do the dirty-work right on the tip of his tongue when Jaster realized there was a pretty large and tacky looking pool of blood staining the decks around the Kel Dor. 

The tall alien had managed to push himself into a sitting position and Jaster could see the source of that bleeding staining his multiple layers of beige and brown robes. 

“ _Haar'chak!_ You’re bleeding like a stuck nerf.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” The damned _Jetii_ said with an almost grating level of serenity. “Our Trandoshan friend is carrying a wookie bowcaster.” 

“This day just keeps getting better and better. Can you even stand?”

“With your help, Mando, I believe I can.” The Kel Dor pressed one hand over the wound and Jaster fiddled with the saber until he figured out the activation switch. He let it drop to the deck distastefully and pretended he didn’t see the subtle wince the _Jetii_ made when it hit the metal plating. 

“Alright, the good news is we’ll have to walk right by the medkit to get to the cockpit and shake that _chakaaryc_ lizard out of there.” He offered a hand to the Kel Dor and willed himself to not flinch at the size of the alien’s talons or the sharp metal bits he had covering some of his fingers. 

He was surprised to find that Kel Dor skin wasn’t as unpleasant to the touch as he’d assumed it would be. It was as dry and warm as a human’s skin might be despite the weird mottling and discoloration. For some reason, Jaster had just assumed it would feel slightly clammy or maybe slick like a reptile’s scales but it was nothing like that. He pulled the Jedi to his feet and was vaguely surprised by the height and heft of the man who definitely had a good five or six centimeters on him. 

Of course, the alien was also visibly in pain, and his shoulders hunched ever so slightly as he curled inwards just a little bit in an attempt to protect his wound. Jaster found himself torn between the almost instinctive urge to make sure the man didn’t bowl over but also with the knowledge he needed to be unencumbered if the Trandoshan came racing down the hallway. He briefly ducked down to scoop up the lightsaber and thrust it out to the _Jetii_. 

“Think you can wave your glowstick around if needs be?” 

“I will manage, thank you, Mando.” There might have been something akin to relief in the Kel Dor’s voice when he closed his talons around the hilt of that saber. 

“It’s Jaster, Jaster Mereel.” He said a little gruffly and it was impossible to read the alien’s expression courtesy of the antiox mask and goggles but he still picked up a sense of amusement from the Kel Dor as he nodded his head.

“I know, but I would not presume to have used it without your permission first so I thank you for that. I am Plo Koon.” 

Karking mind-reading, _Jetii_!

"Again, I do apologize for making telepathic contact without gaining your express permission first, I can assure you it is not something I do lightly."

"Desperate times, I get it. Just stay out of my head from here on out, _suvarir_?" He doubted the Jedi understood that last part but he was pretty sure his tone conveyed the message all the same. Once Jaster was relatively certain the Kel Dor wasn’t going to keel over, he walked over to the Weequay’s now dismembered head and went about the grisly task of yanking his blade free. To Jaster’s dismay, he found a good third of the hilt was missing courtesy of the lightsaber. 

“Are you kidding...save me from _shabla Jetii_ and their kriffing laserswords.” He muttered under his breath and yanked the knife out with a wet, unpleasant squelch. “How do you people not regularly chop off body parts with those karking things?”

“Lots and lots of practice.” There was definitely a note of amusement in the Kel Dor’s voice. 

“I should hope so. Fierfek, I liked that knife too.” He grumbled to himself as he moved onto the body of the Weequay and divested it of a X-47 blaster that had seen better days but looked like it could still shoot straight. “Don’t suppose you know where they stashed my weapons?”

“I do not, I’m sorry to say.”

“Hopefully one of these _chakaare_ has them. I’m going to grab the med-kit. Can you metabolize bacta and standard-issue pain meds for humans?”

“Yes to the bacta, I would have to see what pain medication you’re talking about but it may interfere with my ability to think clearly and I will need a clear head to be able to use the Force if needs be.”

“And concentrating on the gaping wound in your torso may interfere with your ability to swing that fancy laser sword.” 

“Let us hope you have a plentiful supply of bacta, Jaster.” 

The Mandalorian found himself fighting the urge to roll his eyes heavenward and crept carefully up the hallway and into the little alcove set aside as an impromptu medical bay. He carefully pulled the medical kit free of the brackets that held it fastened to the bulkhead while keeping both ears peeled for the sound of Trandoshan footsteps coming down from the cockpit and swiftly made his way back into the cargo bay. 

“Okay, is there anything I need to know about Kel Dor physiology?”

“Plenty but nothing we have time to go into at the moment. For now, we can pack the wound and cover it with a pressure bandage.” Plo Koon reluctantly pulled his hand away from the wound and a trickle of blood started to leak from it. 

“Show me your best stoic _Jetii_ face cause this is going to hurt like a son of a bantha karker.” Jaster warned him and pressed the nozzle of the bacta canister into the wound and depressed the lever to expel the compressed bacta-gel inside. 

Plo Koon made a low, keening noise of abject misery and both clawed hands ended up on Jaster’s shoulders as if the Jedi were about to lose his footing and desperately needed the support. He didn’t begrudge the _Jetii_ that because he’d gone through this very same thing after a verpine quarrel had left a four-centimeter gap in his leg once. He’d nearly passed out from the pain but the bacta was infused with local anesthetics which he hoped would take some of the edges of the pain off.

The Kel Dor was sucking in air like a vacuum pump and Jaster shoved down a twinge of something that might have been pity or empathy and once the canister was empty, he shoved a bacta patch down over the wound followed by a thick pressure bandage which he finished off with a wrap. Never in a million years did he think he would be in this position, treating and bandaging the wounds of a Jedi. 

He didn’t outright hate them like so many of his kind but he definitely avoided tangling with them at all possible and viewed the whole mad order with a hefty amount of paranoid skepticism. They were _narudar_ temporary allies for the foreseeable future. They could go back to worrying over the ideological differences between _Mando'ade_ and _Jetiise_ if they lived through this. “Sorry, I know that hurt but hopefully that’ll keep you until you can get to a medical droid.”

“Thank you, Jaster.” The Kel Dor’s voice was a little reedy and strangled sounding but it was obvious he was composing himself quickly. “Let us deal with our unwanted Trandoshan infestation, shall we?”

“Our now, eh? Pretty sure this is still my ship.” 

“Your infestation then.”

“Worst damned kind too,” Jaster said, grimly smiling behind his visor and he and the Jedi set off towards the cockpit. “If you can do that fancy push thing again, I’ll see about disarming the lizard. 

“I will do what I can.” 

Jaster had a blaster in hand but honestly, the last thing he wanted to do was risk accidentally firing off a shot and it missing in the tight confines of the cockpit but he also didn’t like his chances against a Trandoshan with just a knife either. They were vicious and powerfully strong, even with a Jedi’s force tricks, he wasn’t all that certain about their odds. Maybe the lasersword was the way to go? And wasn’t that a thought he never believed would cross his kriffing mind?

There were stairs leading up to the flight deck which normally wouldn’t be a problem but Jaster found himself reconsidering that considering the Jedi’s state but Plo Koon managed them without so much as a noise of complaint and Jaster found himself admiring the man’s grit even if he was a _Jetii_. But then, they had always been warriors as well as mad mystics, right? Maybe he should have expected that. 

When he reached the edge of the cockpit, Jaster could see the Trandoshan up to his wrists in the innards of his flight computer and felt a flash of white-hot rage. While he doubted the lizard was Force-sensitive and capable of feeling his sudden anger, something alerted the Trandoshan to danger because it recoiled with a sibilant sounding hiss. 

The lizards had especially keen senses and it had in fact smelled the sickly sweet scent of bacta radiating from Plo Koon’s wounds. Either way, it knew they were there and immediately drew a familiar-looking blaster and started to fire at them. 

Jaster absolutely refused to die at the hands of his own kriffing blasters or let that Trandoshan bastard claim them as trophies. 

“If you’re going to do something now is the time _Jetii_!”

He heard the snap-hiss of Plo Koon igniting his lightsaber and the Kel Dor automatically moved to block and re-direct some of those blaster bolts which, unfortunately, in the tiny confines of the flight deck was a terrible idea. 

“ _No!_ You _utreekov Jetii_ you’re going to wreck my ship!” Which considering Jaster could see the cold, emptiness of space outside the viewport was a truly terrifying concept. He heard the hiss of plasma and crackle of electronics frying but Jaster didn’t have time to stop and wonder just what had gotten winged by the redirected blaster bolts.

“You’re right, I apologize.” Plo apologized with audible strain in his voice. When the Trandoshan poked his ugly head out again to try and fire a couple more shots off at them, the Jedi made a savage movement with one hand and the alien went flying into the bulkhead. It screeched at them, a wordless noise of defiance and to Jaster’s horror, he watched it unload its blaster right into the ship’s computer banks. 

“ _Haar'chak!_ ” Jaster cursed and darted forward to try and wrest the gun from the Transdoshan’s hand as the ship was plunged into darkness as all the electronics shorted out. They lost artificial gravity as well and the Mandalorian suddenly found his forward momentum suddenly had absolutely nothing stopping him from careening right into the Transdoshan. The nippy bastard tried to quite literally bite his head off when his helmeted face came too close to his tooth-filled maw. 

Jaster was never more happy for the tensile strength of _beskar'gam_ as he was in that moment though the Trandoshan’s teeth scored deep gouges in the visor’s surface, it just scraped across the hardened beskar steel when it tried to bite down. The Trandoshan ended up the worse for wear and actually broke a few of its teeth in the process which caused the lizard to screech loudly in Jaster’s ear. He managed to wrestle one pistol away from the Trandoshan and immediately turned it on the alien. Worrying about live-fire in his cockpit was now a moot point, Jaster wanted to end this right now so he pressed the muzzle right up against the creature’s ribcage and aimed it for the reptile’s heart and fired. 

The force of the blaster going off was enough to send Jaster floating back and he desperately got a handhold on the now dead Trandoshan’s flightsuit but much to his surprise, it too went limp as the Jedi let out a quiet noise of pain. “Sorry...cannot...kriff.”

Plo Koon tried to grab into the edge of the doorway leading into the flight deck and dragged himself forwards towards one of the copilot’s seat. He ended up deliberately reaching out to catch Jaster as he went by and dragged him along with him much to the Mando’s dismay. 

“We need to get the gravity systems back online and anything else we can manage.”

“We need to get that last _hut'uun_. Their ship might be the only way we’re getting out of here alive.” 

“I’m afraid that may longer be an option, Jaster.” Plo indicated with one talon as a light freighter of some indeterminate origin fled past them at a full burn.

“ _Haar'chak!_ Do you see any weapons on that barge? If it comes back around we’re a big ol’ juicy target just waiting to be vaped.” Jaster immediately turned his attention to trying to bring the shields and defense systems back online. Sullen red emergency lighting flickered to life overhead as he managed to bring the emergency power back online. 

“I do not but I do not believe they are going to come back around and finish us off. Either because they do not wish to destroy their friends as well or perhaps they are simply cowards.”

“I know which option I would prefer. Kark me, could this day get any worse?” It was all but impossible for him to read the computer console in front of him thanks to the deep gouges the Trandoshan’s teeth had left in his visor. Even his onboard systems couldn’t adequately display the HUD and with a noise of frustration, he yanked it off and let it fall to the ground next to him with a metallic thump. 

The Kel Dor looked over at him curiously and he could feel the weight of the Jedi’s gaze on him but he was too busy trying to bring up any emergency system he could at the moment to snap at the man for gawking. 

“Can I be of assistance in some way?” 

“Do you know anything about Kuat AIAT’s?”

“Not this exact model but I do have experience with Kuat systems. They manufacture all our ships and starfighters.”

“You and half the galaxy, But if you think you can do something with the comm be my guest. If we can get an emergency signal out maybe a friend...or a curious unfriendly will come sniffing around. I’m trying to get what emergency systems I can up and running but I don’t think we’re going to have enough power to keep much of anything going on this crate for long. This means if we attract someone nasty we won’t have the shields or the weaponry to do much more than spit at them as they blast us to atoms.”

“Let us hope it doesn’t come to that. I have some emergency Jedi codes I can try in hopes one of my compatriots is listening.” Plo said with remarkable serenity despite the rather harsh reality Jaster had just laid out. 

The dark-haired Mandalorian looked like he couldn’t decide if he was disgusted or exasperated by that mystical serenity _osik_ but let it go by without comment and instead concentrated on the major problems at hand. 

“We’re farkled.” Is what he finally determined. “That damned lizard completely destroyed pretty much every system we have. Backup power is going to last maybe a standard hour or two and then we’re going to lose all life support and power. I could shut it all down now and save what power we have in case we need to power up the shields and defenses for a short period of time. I do have some missiles but the turrets are going to drain us almost as fast as the shielding will.”

“How long can we survive without life support? This ship seems to be sizable enough we should have adequate oxygen levels for a while at least.”

“We’ll probably freeze to death before we asphyxiate. Well...correction _I_ will probably freeze to death, I dunno how long a Kel Dor will last in those kinds of conditions.”

“We can survive in a vacuum for a short amount of time.”

“So you might actually make it through this then. Assuming that gutshot doesn’t kill you first.” Jaster surmised calmly. “I’m shutting everything down but the lights and the beacon down for now. I do have a medical droid which can run without the power so let’s get that wound addressed.” 

“Could we not use the bot's power cells to augment life support a little bit longer?" The Jedi countered, automatically opting to concentrate on the option that would save both of them rather than his own personal survival.

"Kark, that. One of us needs to make it out of this alive so those traitorous moofmilkers can't get away with framing our respective camps for this. I won't have my people going to war with the _Jetii_ over some poorly executed frame job." Jaster said harshly as he powered down the emergency systems and they once more lost artificial gravity. Only the faint red glow of the emergency lighting remained.

"I see, you are a very curious Mandalorian."

"Yeah, that's me, constantly bucking the cultural expectations of my people and shattering the preconceived notions of _aruetiise_." He quipped sarcastically and carefully maneuvered himself out of the pilot's seat. "Come on, let's get you to the medbay or what passes for a medbay on this crate."

"I didn't mean it in that way though I see where I could have phrased things differently. I simply meant it is surprising but no less honorable that you would overlook the traditionally antagonistic history between your people and mine to the point you would place my survival ahead of your own."

"It ain't just your survival I'm interested in, _Jetii_. I have a son and people who look to me for protection and leadership. I won't let Vizla and that sleemo Hutt Qadab succeed in tricking my people into swearing a blood feud on your kind. It would be a senseless bloodbath. I am not eager to die here and freezing to death with one of my people's mortal enemies is definitely not how I want my life to end. But I value Jango's life and that of my people more than my own and if that means you survive while I don't, so be it. So move your _shebs_ before I drag you to the medbay."

Plo Koon made a quiet sound that might have been a huff of amusement. "No need for that, I will go peacefully." The Kel Dor Jedi said as he gracefully maneuvered himself out of the pilot's seat and propelled himself towards the door. 

Jaster absolutely refused to let himself acknowledge the flash of wry envy at the Jedi's graceful adaptation to zero-gee as he much more clumsily followed behind him. He very nearly careened into the corpse of the Trandoshan in the process and was cursing under his breath as he followed the Jedi down the hallway. 

"Hang a left at the galley and go straight through towards the crew quarters and you'll see the alcove on the right. I'm going to grab the med-kit." 

The Jedi followed his instructions and Jaster continued down the hallway until he was once more in the cargo hold. He spotted the medkit floating there. He kicked off from the bulkhead and barreled through the cargo bay and managed to smack into the medkit with his chest and desperately clawed for it as he continued to float through the cargo bay. He did manage to hold onto the kit but couldn't quite stop himself from smacking into the Weequay's corpse which sent both him and the corp spinning maddeningly out of control. 

He only managed to right himself when he bounced off the far wall and desperately kicked off in hopes of springboarding himself back across the cargo bay back towards the hallway. Jaster ended up missing the mark but managed to grab a handhold on a hydraulics pipe which allowed him to reorient himself. His stomach on the other hand was a whole other story. He cursed the air blue with some of the vilest, most filthy curses in seven different languages he’d learned over his varied and storied lifetime, and once he felt like he wasn’t going to embarrass himself by puking like a green, wet behind the ears rookie, he shoved off again and made his way towards the makeshift med-bay.

The Jedi had already discovered the IM-6 medical droid and powered it on and the diminutive bot was directing him on how to strap himself down onto the gurney. 

“Got the med-kit.”

“My thanks, is there any chance we can engage the artificial gravity? I am not rated for zero-grav surgery.” 

“How long do you--” 

“We will have to make do with our current circumstances. There is no additional power to be spared.” The Jedi smoothly interrupted and overruled Jaster before he could even finish his question. That earned the Kel Dor a sharp look from the Mandalorian but it was impossible to read the alien’s expression and his body language gave nothing away. “As you said, we need to preserve it to keep the beacon and potentially power up the shields if an enemy approaches, correct, Jaster?” 

There was some logic to be found there but that didn’t mean he appreciated the Jedi trying to dictate matters on his kriffing ship either. “What he said, you’ll have to make do.”

“This is _highly_ irregular.” 

“Yeah, well, life ain’t fair. I’m gonna go deal with the garbage. Yell if you need something.” Jaster said before turning to drag himself back towards the cockpit so he could grab the Trandoshan’s corpse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaster and Plo Koon talk...a lot. And start to discover the similarities and differences between what makes a Jedi and a Mandalorian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, not going to lie I am absolutely floored at the reception for this fic mainly because I thought maybe two people would be interested in this ridiculous fic since it's the most obscure pairing ever. The pic that completely sold me on this pairing is over on [bureau-pinery's tumblr ](https://bureau-pinery.tumblr.com/post/629337982115184640/hello-its-my-new-otp-thank-you-pretzel-log1c) and everyone should go chinhand and stare adoringly at it. To everyone who has commented so far, thank you. They give me life and inspire me to keep pounding away at the keyboard.

He rescued his blasters along with a couple of vibroknives he’d had stowed in his armor and picked over anything else of value from the lizard as well as it’s comlink which he would examine later. It was probably just low-rent help but anything he could use to document and hopefully use to construct a narrative of what had happened here might be useful. 

After he stashed the alien in the airlock, he went back to the Weequay’s corpse and gamely did his best to ignore the globules of blood that floated around the cargo bay in an almost hypnotic pattern that was truly gruesome if he stopped and thought about it for too long. He was _not_ looking forward to having to clean up all the mess and silently promised himself he would exact the price from the slimy slug who’d set him up with interest in kind. 

Resentment and rage were good, it kept a man sharp even beyond the edges of his physical limits and Jaster had a lot of experience at nursing a grudge. He wouldn’t call himself a good man, there was too much blood on his hands, too many people, both good and bad, that he’d left in his wake to call himself that. But he did consider himself a fair and honest one so his tolerance for dishonesty and treachery in others was practically zero. It was a hard, and brutal way to live but he’d rather be known as having been fair and harsh than some duplicitous piece of _osik_. 

After Jaster finished picking the Weequay’s corpse over as well and had shoved both it and the Trandoshan out of the airlock, he’d only wasted maybe half an hour. To his surprise, he found he was actually getting used to floating around in zero-gee though there had been more than one mishap that ended with bouncing against the walls and the ceiling at one point. 

He could not wait to get his feet back on solid ground where he kriffing belonged. And he wasn’t going to leave said ground for at least a month if he could manage it! He’d never particularly cared one way or another about space travel, it had always been a practical means of getting about but he’d never felt the urge to hop in a starfighter and zoom around the galaxy like some of the more _jare'la di’kute_ out there. 

But after all of this, he definitely longed to be embraced by the firm and irrefutable rules of gravity once more. As he was floating past the galley, he felt the urge to check in on the Jedi and the medical bot but quelled that idle curiosity. He wasn’t going to be able to assist in any way and someone needed to monitor the emergency beacon in hopes it actually reached a friendly ear so he kept going towards the cockpit and started to download the contents of the two mook’s comlinks onto his datapad so he could examine and cross-reference the data. 

After that, he began the rather macabre task of writing out one last letter for Jango but he suddenly found the task nearly impossible. How did one distill a lifetime worth of advice and paternal regret into a few paltry paragraphs? If he was being honest with himself, Jaster had never expected to have any children in which to leave such a letter. He didn’t quite understand the impulsive urge he’d felt to take the fierce little firebrand of an orphan under his wing. He also knew there were other members of his band who’d probably expected or at least _assumed_ Jaster would surrender the reins to them and probably resented him just picking up Jango like an abandoned aak pup but they would have to learn to deal with that disappointment. 

He stared down at his datapad for a long time, struggling to come up with adequate last words. For a man who’d always found writing something that came readily and easily, he found himself strangely bereft of the appropriate words. Jaster wanted to tell himself that simply meant he hadn’t mentally surrendered himself to his fate, that he was still going to fight tooth and nail to claw onto his survival but there was a part of him that questioned if it wasn’t the exact opposite. 

That he simply wasn’t ready to come to terms with the idea that after everything, this was how he was going to go out. Not with a glorious fight on some distant battlefield but with a whimper, lost in the dark with a damn _Jetii_ for company. 

After spending an hour just frustrating himself further he shoved the datapad away and sullenly watched as it bounced off the control panel and went flying in a random direction. 

“You seem like a man with a heavily troubled heart, my friend.” It was a testament to just how lost Jaster had been in his brooding that he hadn’t even heard the kriffing Jedi enter the cockpit.

“Did your mystical force abilities tell you that?” 

“I didn’t need the Force to be able to read your frustration.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Jaster deflected with an exasperated look over his shoulder as Plo Koon pushed himself forward until he could grab the back of the co-pilot’s chair and pulled himself down into it.

“I thought it might be best to seal off the cockpit to try and preserve as much heat as we can and I can rest as easily here as I can in the med-bay.”

“Not a bad idea, let’s see what I can manage as far as the air scrubbers go.” He had to admit that it wasn’t a terrible idea so long as they could continue to adequately cycle the air in and out of the cockpit. Jaster busied himself with doing just that and cycled the airlock behind them as they settled in to wait for….something to happen. 

“You look better?” The human hazarded a guess though to be honest he couldn’t tell exactly. It looked like the mottling of Plo Koon’s skin was more pronounced and assumed it was similar to a human who could go pallid with blood loss and shock. 

“I am, your surgical droid was quite helpful in closing the worst of the wounds.”

“I’ll be honest, the fact you’re even still vertical after taking a bowcaster quarrel? That’s impressive for an _aruetii_. Even a mad _Jetii_ sorcerer.” Jaster couldn’t quite bring himself to call it _mandokarla_ but for an outsider, the Jedi had shown some real grit and that was a trait any Mandalorian would find admirable. 

“At this point, it’s probably the bacta and pain killers that are keeping me on my feet.”

“Just accept the compliment, _di’kut_.” 

That garnered him a soft, wheezing laugh from the Kel Dor. “Very well, I accept your compliment, especially knowing it comes from the _Mand'alor_ himself.” 

Jaster fought back a grimace at that and slanted an inscrutable look over at the Jedi. “Figured that out, did you?”

“I’m sorry to say it took me a shamefully long time to put the pieces together but yes, I did eventually remember why your name sounded so familiar.” The Jedi agreed with a pleasant enough tone and bowed his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. “As I said, you’re not what I expected, but perhaps that is my own preconceived notion based upon what I pictured from reading your writings.”

The Mandalorian quite literally gaped at the alien for a moment because he certainly hadn’t expected to hear _those words_ come from a Jedi’s mouth. Nor was he ready to deal with the knowledge that apparently a copy of his Supercommando Codex had apparently reached the kriffing _Jetiise ke'gyce_. “You...you have read my Codex?” He finally managed somewhat skeptically. 

“Indeed I have. It was enlightening. I consider myself a bit of a scholar and despite the disagreements between our people, I do find your culture to be interesting. The focus on family and personal honor, it is...intriguing.”

“What would a _Jetii_ know about family? I thought your kind were forbidden that sort of thing. No lovers, families, or children.” Jaster couldn’t quite mask the distaste in his voice because to a Mando, the Jedi ideals of eschewing attachment or even a family were the antithesis of a Mandalorian mindset. 

“We must walk a delicate balance and often, it can be hard for a Jedi to not let his or her attachment of others slip into something avaricious or overpowering which is why we typically do not practice what the rest of the universe would consider typical family dynamics, no. There are some Jedi who do marry and even certain sects who do not have such a….rigid view on what is a proper level of detachment from those around us. Just as I know there are different sects among your people who hold differing ideas on what a proper Mandalorian should be and which values they should ascribe to.”

“Heh, that is an understatement, to say the least. Put ten different _Mando'ade_ in a room and you’ll get ten different views on what a good and proper Mando should be.” 

“The Jedi order is much the same. I’ve read our own histories and it is fascinating to see how certain schools of thought will come in and out of fashion over the centuries or even the millennia.”

“And here I thought you were all just emotionally repressed _chakaare_ ”

“Well, I am glad to shatter _your_ preconceived notions about the Jedi just as you are doing for me when it comes to Mandalorians. If we were not in such mortal peril, I would count myself lucky to find myself in such a place that we can do such a cultural exchange in such an open and free manner.” 

“Hn, I’d best be careful or they may take away my title as _Mand’alor_ if it gets out that I’m making nice with a _Jetii_.” Jaster said deadpan but could only hold that expression for so long before the twitching at the corners of his mouth gave away his amusement. 

“Force forbid.”

“Honestly? They are welcome to do it. I certainly didn’t set out to take on the role and if I’m being honest, I still don’t know how they convinced me to agree to the _dini'la_ idea in the first place.”

“I may be guessing here but I suspect a sense of duty towards your people played a large part in that decision.” 

“You’re probably right though I would like to also put forth the option of temporary insanity.” The corners of Jaster’s eyes crinkled up as he said that. “I won’t lie, I’m definitely looking forward to the day Jango is old enough to take over for me. I’m too kriffing old for this _osik_.” Fighting a war was definitely a young man’s game and Jaster had been at war pretty much his whole life it felt like. 

He barely even remembered what it felt like to be just a simple Journeyman Protector whose biggest responsibility was protecting his people and upholding the law. 

“You have a few more years in you yet, Jaster. And I fully intend on making sure you get to see those years. I know you’ve got this notion that if it comes down to it, one of us needs to make it out of here but my intention is to see to it that we both live to see tomorrow. You will see your son again.” Plo stated with such certainty, Jaster almost wanted to believe in it too.

“One of your mystical dreams tell you that, _Jetii_?”

“No, simple stubbornness on my part. I may not have been gifted with the opportunity to have a son or daughter of my own but even I know a child should not grow up without their father. So I intend on making sure your Jango doesn’t have to suffer that pain or loss.” 

Jaster was surprised by the swell of emotion that closed around his heart when the Kel Dor solemnly made that vow. His own innate mistrust of Jedi automatically made him want to reject that promise out of hand. But there was a part of him that almost longed to be proven wrong. Because he _did_ want to see Jango again. 

Didn’t want to suffocate or slowly freeze to death out here in the dark. 

“Alright, Plo Koon, let’s do it your way. This is definitely not how I pictured my life ending either way. Besides...I’ve spent the past hour trying to come up with a letter I could leave Jango that held words that have any real meaning and haven’t been able to come up with a single word to say.” This was said with a trace of bitterness. “Which, for me, is pretty karking ironic.”

“I don’t think anyone is prepared to write that sort of letter for a loved one. Even a Jedi I think would struggle with such a thing and we are taught to believe that death is not the end of our journey but simply that we move on to rejoin the Force. But trying to come up with words that will bring comfort or ease the suffering of those who might mourn our passing isn’t an easy thing I would think.”

“See, I didn’t even think you could mourn your dead.”

“Mourning and grief are inherent parts of life. It is true, we are taught to not let ourselves become too mired down with those emotions and that we should ultimately release that attachment and pain into the Force. But Jedi are not so heartless that we do not care for or even love so of course, we mourn when someone we care for passes into the Force. Are not Mandalorians the same way? You believe in a sort of afterlife, right?”

“Yes, the _manda_. Some people call it the oversoul or the place where all Mandalorian souls gather after death.” 

“That sounds remarkably similar in many ways to what we are taught. Perhaps not the concept of a soul or the continued consciousness of a person after death. But simply that it is not something that is a final end.”

“That’s heretical talk there, _Jetii_.” Jaster said without any real heat in his words. 

“I suppose I am a bit of a heretic then. You know, I do believe this is the longest I have ever had the chance to talk with a Mandalorian?” The Kel Dor mused quietly as he tilted his head in Jaster's direction ever so slightly.

“This is definitely the longest I’ve talked to a _Jetii_. I guess that makes me a bit of a heretic as well.” He conceded with a small smile.

“It pains me that our people are often at odds with one another so I am glad we got to know one another, Jaster. Even if the circumstances are less than ideal.” 

“We _Mando’ade_ are at odds with most everyone, don't take it personally. It’s part of our charm.” The dark-haired man said sardonically. “But, I will admit, you are not what I was expecting a _Jetii_ to be. However, something tells me you are not a typical example of your kind. Because you wouldn’t have the reputation you have otherwise.”

“I think the same could be said for you, no?” Amusement weaved its way into the Kel Dor’s voice when he said that. “A warrior and a scholar. Perhaps even a bit of a revolutionary?” 

“Don’t listen to all the _osik_ you hear about me. I'm just a simple man, trying to make my way in the universe.”

“As you say.” Plo Koon’s tone indicated he didn’t believe that but wasn’t going to fight Jaster on the matter either. “So, you said you have a son? How old is he?” 

“He just turned ten.” The pride that suffused through Jaster when he spoke of his son was unmistakable and the man all but glowed in the Force to Plo Koon’s senses with the love and pride he held for the boy. 

The Kel Dor had met countless parents over the course of his life, many had shown as brightly with love and affection as Jaster did at that moment but there had been a few heartbreaking instances where there was the exact opposite reaction. Some who felt nothing or even indifference towards the children they brought into the universe. It was a truly heartbreaking realization and every time, Plo Koon had wrestled with the almost overpowering urge to try and rescue the unfortunate children who’d found themselves unlucky enough to have a parent who was cold and unfeeling. Or worse. 

It was a habit he knew caused undue stress amongst his peers but one Plo Koon couldn’t quite seem to break. If he could not help or extract the child from their circumstances, he always made sure to find a way of involving either the local authorities or the system if the child truly was in danger as was often the case. 

“That is a wonderful age to be alive. Children are such a joy.” There was no mistaking the genuine affection in the Jedi’s voice when he said that, he truly meant it.

“So no children of your own? You said a Jedi could have kids?”

“In certain circumstances, yes. It is not an easy situation because the urge to let your child become the very center of your world is all too easy and we are discouraged from letting our attachments supersede others. I do not know if I would have the ability to compartmentalize that part of myself enough to have children of my own.” The Kel Dor admitted frankly. 

Jaster smiled a little sadly at that. “Pity, children are definitely a gift. I never thought I would know that joy myself if we’re being honest. After I was exiled from home, I sort of closed that chapter of my life and accepted settling down and raising a family just wasn’t in the cards for me. Jango’s a founding but I love him like he’s my own blood. He likes to think I saved him but in a lot of ways, he saved me too. Who knows what kind of bitter old _shabuir_ I’d be if we hadn’t found one another.” 

“You were meant to meet one another I suspect. That is fortunate," The Jedi wisely kept his opinion about the two of them meeting being an extension of the will of the Force because he wisely surmised the Mandalorian wouldn't take too kindly to that assertion. 

“I don’t know if I would go that far but sure, something like that. Right place, right time and all that _osik_.” Jaster said, slanting another suspicious look over at the Kel Dor. “So no kids but don’t you Jedi have little baby Jedi running around don't you? I seem to recall something about how you’re raised from babies.” He was being cagey, what he’d heard was Jedi took babies and raised them to be good little Jedi but that was a bit too combative a thing to say so Jaster stuck to playing at being ignorant in order to potentially gain a few more nuggets of information from the unsuspecting Jedi. 

Though if the man could read his kriffing mind, maybe his gambit was pointless. 

“There are younglings who live within the crèche but I am sorry to say I rarely have the chance to visit anymore. My duties keep me away from Coruscant these days. But I have had the opportunity to teach a padawan learner and that was a delightful experience and one I would be eager to do again. There is something comforting in knowing you are helping to teach a child and pass down your skills and knowledge to the next generation.” 

Against his will, Jaster found himself almost...identifying with the damned Jedi, because didn’t his people do the same thing? Take their children into battle, teach them what it meant to be _Mando’ade_ , and instill in them the tenants of the _Resol'nare_? It troubled him in some strange, unidentifiable way. 

His own innate mistrust of Jedi was being challenged by this curious alien who wasn’t anything like what he’d been taught a _Jetii_ could be. Sure, this could be all an elaborate ruse on his part but he didn’t think even a _Jetii_ would allow themselves to be captured and so grievously wounded just on the hopes of what? Talking with him while floating out in the darkness of space? It wasn’t like he’d tried to pitch him anything and Jaster liked to think his instincts were a little bit sharper than that and that he wouldn’t fall for such a transparent ruse. 

Maybe the Kel Dor was being upfront with him, he would have to wait and see. 

“So that’s like an apprentice, _Jetii_?” 

“I suppose you could view it like that, they have undergone their initial training, become what we call a padawan and are matched with a Knight or a Master in order to complete their training in a more...hands-on manner. We take them with us out into the universe and they get to experience what it is a Jedi does first hand rather than trying to teach them via holobooks or lectures.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t have one with you currently. Who knows what that sleemo Qadab would have done to them.” Jaster didn’t even need to fake his disgust and disapproval when he said that. 

“I am relieved as well. It would be helpful to have someone raise the alarm but I would have been distraught if something happened to my padawan. I’d been investigating the Hutt’s crime ring on Akiva when they caught me. I suspect us being here together is simply sheer bad luck on both our parts. It would explain why they were so sloppy with their execution.”

“Oh?” He’d been wondering how the Jedi fit into all of this so Jaster tried to mask his curiosity as he looked over at Plo Koon. “Not arguing that they were sloppy, and I’ll fully admit I walked into their trap like a _utreekov_ bantha but they’d obviously set the trap for me. Even put out the intel trying to lure me to it knowing I’d take the bait if it afforded me the opportunity to kill...well someone I would really love to shake off this mortal coil so to speak.” He didn’t name Vizla outright and fully intended on keeping that to himself if he could.

“Well, we know they intended on making it look as though you and I murdered one another to try and set off yet another conflict between the Mandalorians and the Jedi. However, how did I supposedly get on your ship?”

“Maybe you stowed away?”

“You really think anyone is going to believe that? That a Jedi can just sneak onto the ship of the _Mand’alor_ without him noticing?”

“I appreciate your faith in my spy checking skills but alright, let’s say you did some Jedi mind trickery to convince me to let you come on board. But didn’t try and kill me until we broke atmo.”

“Very well, let’s go with that...highly unlikely scenario. Unless you are known to carry a wookie bowcaster then a dead Jedi showing up in your hold with a gaping wound clearly caused by one would raise some eyebrows. I suppose our recently deceased Trandoshan pal could have abandoned his weapon though I’ve never known one to easily surrender a trophy if they can avoid it. Most likely he would have tried to keep my lightsaber as one as well.”

“True, and me showing up headless or dead by a lightsaber without one to be found would be pretty suspicious. I’d almost be insulted if they’d actually managed to pull this off.”

“Pride is a dangerous thing, my friend.”

“It ain’t pride, it’s a professional courtesy.” Okay, it was professional pride but he wasn‘t going to admit that! 

“I’m sure the mentally deficient gangers trying to kill us care about such things.” Plo Koon said, blandly but Jaster would have had to have been dead to miss the irony in the Jedi’s voice.

“You sure are sassy for a _Jetii_.” 

“A personal failing and one I strive to overcome daily.” The Jedi bastard agreed sweetly. 

“I have a ten year old, I’m used to sass.” 

“Then you should be used to it, but as I was saying, this whole ruse of theirs falls if you so much as even breathe on it so this is obviously not some deeply thought out plot on their part so much as I suspect something cobbled together in a rush because they suddenly had to deal with a high-ranking Mandalorian and an unexpected Jedi to boot.”

“The easiest thing would be for us to get out here and go pin that slimy worm down with a couple of knives until he squeals like a stuck Gamorrean.” 

“As a Jedi, I cannot advocate wholesale violence, even against a crime lord like a Hutt.” 

“Well, we _Mando'ade_ aren’t that particular, especially when someone tries to kill us.” 

“I cannot say that I agree with your methods but I will admit they may be….more expedient than what I can do in my capacity as a Jedi.” 

“Well, consider this your forewarning to stay out of my way,” Jaster stated bluntly and while he couldn’t exactly read the Kel Dor’s expression thanks to the antiox mask and goggles, there was a subtle shift in the Jedi’s body language and because Jaster couldn’t stop himself from throwing more accelerant on the proverbial fire he added. “Is that going to be a problem for you, _Jetii_?”

Plo Koon audibly vented a sigh which was carried even through the antiox mask. “Jedi do not believe in following the path of revenge. That is the path to the Dark Side and nothing good can come of it.”

“It’s a good thing I ain’t a Jed then. Cause Mandalorians have no problem with revenge.”

“Be that as it may, revenge only leads to more pain and suffering and it becomes a self-fulfilling destructive cycle because the person you strike down will inevitably have someone who will want to avenge their death and it spirals out of control from there.”

“Or you make sure you wipe out them and anyone who could swear vengeance for them and then it becomes a moot point.”

“That is a lot of blood spilled, do you truly want that much blood on your hands, Jaster?” The Jedi asked somberly. 

“If it protects my people? Yes. I didn’t start this fight with Qadab and his people but I will finish it rather than leaving another enemy waiting to stick a dagger in me or my people’s backs.”

“I worry that you may be biting off more than you can handle, my friend. Unless you intend on dragging your people into this conflict which….defeats your purpose of trying to keep them safe, does it not?”

“I’m not that much of a _di’kut_ that I’m going to just walk in there guns blazing. Well, not twice now that I have a better lay of the land. But I am going to make that slimy worm answer for what he’s done and convince him to tell me where Vizla is.”

“I fear you have let your anger cloud your vision.”

“Look, we’re cooperating because we have no choice in the matter but once we get out of here, you don’t have to worry your little Jedi head about me or what I intend on doing. Just so long as you don’t try to stand in my way, we can part peacefully without any bad blood between us which I think may actually be the first time a Mando and a Jedi has managed that in a long kriffing time. So take the win, Plo Koon.”

“Be that as it may, I suspect the universe would be lessened and a little less bright if you were to recklessly sacrifice your life in such a reckless way. Just as I know your son and your people will suffer greatly and bereaved of your loss.” The Jedi mused softly and that earned him an inscrutable look from the dark-haired man.

“As much fun as this conversation is turning out to be, I’m going to grab some sleep, wake me up if something pops up on the sensors,” Jaster said and detached his cape and tucked it in around his torso as a makeshift blanket. He could have fetched some real bedding from his berth but honestly, he didn’t want to let out any of the meager heat they’d managed to conserve in the cockpit. The temperature had already dropped a good twenty degrees already. He snagged his helmet from where it was floating down by his feet and plopped it onto his head so he could seal it back up. 

He absolutely refused to admit that maybe he was retreating rather than continue this sticky conversation with the _Jetii_. Maybe it was his imagination but he thought he’d detected a genuine thread of regret in Plo Koon’s words and he didn’t know how to deal with the idea his mortal enemy might actually _regret_ it if he died. 

That was ridiculous, he was just imagining things. 

“Sleep well, I will wake you if something occurs.” 

“Wake me in a few hours and I’ll take over the second watch,” Jaster said a little gruffly and thumbed the control to recline his seat back a little bit at a more comfortable angle. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept in this chair and by the stars, it wouldn’t be the last if he had anything to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a**  
>  _Aruetii_ \- Traitor, foreigner, outsider in this case he means outsider  
>  _Dini'la_ \- Insane  
>  _Jare'la di’kute_ \- Oblivious idiots, those oblivious to danger and or asking for trouble  
>  _Jetiise ke'gyce_ \- Jedi Command, or council I could be completely wrong here, please correct me if I am  
>  _Mand'alor_ \- Ruler of the Mandalorians  
>  _Mando'ade_ \- Mandalorians, literal sons and daughters of Mandalore  
>  _Mandokarla_ \- Mandalorian concept of having the right mix of grit, aggression, loyalty and a lust for life. The ideal of Mandalorian virtue.  
>  _Resol'nare_ \- Six actions or the tenants of Mandalorian life.  
>  _Shabuir_ \- A very extreme insult, a jerk but with stronger connotations. Think calling someone an asshole.  
>  _Utreekov_ \- Fool or idiot, quite literally means empty-headed.  
> Note: Please see the footnotes on chapter 1 for any other Mando'a previously mentioned in this fic. Sorry for the sheer amount of this _osik_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wasn't going to have a set schedule but Monday came and passed and I had guilt eating at me because I am singularly ridiculous. Some major real life stress came up in the past two weeks which has completely cratered my writing mood. This is my last 'buffer' chapter though I think I am on the tail end of finishing this fic so hopefully, I'll have the last chapter up next week? Please be patient with me. I also keep forgetting to link to my [tumblr](https://bylightofdawn.tumblr.com/) if you want to come chat with me. I tend to reblog all the arts, post sneak peeks at stuff, etc. etc

Plo Koon spent those next few hours meditating as best he could with the bone-deep ache of pain that radiated through his rib-cage from the wound. The bacta had taken the initial edge off the agony and the surgical capabilities as the little med-droid were perfectly adequate but he knew he’d pushed himself beyond the capabilities of his body earlier. He counted it an unexpected blessing that Jaster apparently was unfamiliar with Kel Dor and probably hadn’t realized just how close he’d come to passing out with each step when they had made their way towards the cockpit. 

He found himself wrestling with both the idea he’d been utterly useless in that fight but also that when push had come to shove, he’d employed the Force in a way that had enabled the Mandalorian to all but assassinate their attackers. 

Yes, they had quite literally been trying to kill them so he knew by the Code, it was self-defense. But having heard the rather bleak and black-and-white way Jaster summed up his entire world-view of killing those who try and kill you first, the Jedi found himself faced with questions he didn’t know the answer to. Academically, he knew all life was to be revered and it wasn’t as though he’d never killed before. 

No, what unsettled him was the calm, almost dispassionate way Jaster had dispatched their attackers. Most people killed because of fits of passion or rage, and fear. Or perhaps out of a sense of thwarted pride and frustration but he hadn’t sensed any of that from the man. He hadn’t hated the Weequay or the Trandoshan, they had simply been obstacles in his way, enemies as he’d said who had tried to kill him and therefore targeted to be eliminated swiftly and without mercy. 

There was definitely hints of the Darkside in such ways of thinking yet he also found a lot of the Light in this curious human as well. It had practically radiated out of him any time he spoke of his adopted son. The anger Plo Koon had expected to feel from the man only rose when they were talking about the plot to try and kill them. Then Jaster had been angry at Qadab and his compatriots but because they threatened those he cared about, the Jedi suspected. But the eddies of the Darkside were definitely there and had scraped at Plo Koon’s senses like sandpaper. 

He’d found in his life outside the temple that many people were like that though. There were both elements of the Light and Dark side in a lot of people, it went beyond species, gender or creed and was a personal battle ever a Jedi had to battle within themselves. 

Jaster intrigued him though, Plo Koon didn’t know if it was because he both epitomized yet completely flounced so many of the stereotypical images of what a Mandalorian was supposed to be. Even among his fellow Jedi, he knew there was an unfair bias against Mandalorians. It was perhaps understandable considering the amount of bad blood between the Jedi and the Mandalorians and the centuries of contentious and occasionally outright warring history between them. 

Plo Koon was finding he had to reassess what he thought he knew about Mandalorians in general but he found he didn’t mind that. He had no idea if Jaster Mereel was a good and realistic example of his people but he if was, the Jedi found himself regretting the reputation they had earned among the Order but also the galaxy at large. 

It was a curious puzzle and Plo Koon had yet to discover a puzzle he didn’t enjoy figuring out. 

As the hours dragged on, the temperature in the cockpit continued to drop until much to Plo’s dismay, he could see the little puffs of air each time he took a breath which told him the temperatures had dropped closer and closer to freezing. 

Despite the short cape and the full set of armor, he noticed that Jaster was shivering even in his sleep. He felt the cold but not as keenly as his companion so after a moment’s hesitation, the Jedi carefully undid the belt that was holding him in place and started to struggle as quietly as he could out of his outer robe while still keeping one clawed hand firmly clasped in his seat. This would have been so much easier without having to struggle with microgravity but he managed to finally shrug off the thick, rough-spun fabric. 

After a half-second of debate, he finally decided a little judicious cheating with the Force was forgivable and he cast the fabric over in the direction of Jaster’s sleeping form and tugged it into place down around the man. Plo kept a watchful eye on him because he half-way expected him to jolt awake, blaster in hand at the slightest disturbance. But he didn’t sense any change in the man’s Force signature and the pattern of his slow and steady breathing didn’t seem to change as the Jedi released his hold on the robe with the Force. It floated there in place save for a few anchor-points where the Jedi had managed to tuck it into the nooks and crannies of the pilot’s seat but Plo Koon deemed it good enough and buckled himself back into his seat. 

He let his thoughts drift then, not quite meditating but not really consciously trying to guide his mind either. Perhaps it was no surprise then that they would hop from one subject to another. He pondered the Mandalorian sleeping next to him and felt a wash of concern for the man. For the way that the temperature in the cockpit was steadily dropping to below freezing. 

Humans weren’t capable of withstanding temperature extremes like many species. It was one of those strange biological quirks that never ceased to baffle and bemuse Plo Koon. They were surprisingly frail yet they had managed to claw their way to such a position of power throughout the galaxy just on the basis of their tenacity and cleverness. 

That cleverness wouldn’t do Jaster Mereel much good when the temperature here dropped below zero. There was enough oxygen in the ship to probably last them a couple of days but the human would freeze to death before that happened. 

By all accounts, freezing to death was slow and painful but supposedly by the end, you went numb and eventually felt nothing. He wasn’t sure which he would succumb to first, hypothermia or hypoxia as the breathable atmosphere in the ship expired. Sure, Jaster dying would mean there was one less living creature drawing upon the dwindling air supply but Plo Koon found the thought deeply unsettling. 

Not so much his own death but knowing his final hours in this universe might be spent living with the knowledge he couldn’t save Jaster or himself. He didn’t fear his own death but he did fear perishing knowing he’d been powerless to save Jaster and himself. Plo didn’t know what that said about him. 

But he regretted the knowledge he was staring down the black chasm of his own inevitable death and found there were so many things he still wanted to do. He wanted to be able to speak to his friends once more and wanted to say goodbye to his Master Tyvokka. To gaze upon his niece Sha Koon one last time and to burn the memory of her into his mind. He regretted the fact he saw so little of her and that his duties kept him from the Temple as much as it did. 

There were so many regrets, how could he have so many when he’d thought his life so fulfilling? Were these just the maudlin dwellings of the doomed or something else? It was a strange and oddly unsettling realization, an unwanted look at his life only to realize something was apparently missing but he didn’t know what that could possibly be. 

Plo Koon had never wanted for anything. All of his needs were fulfilled by the Order. Whatever this was, he knew it wasn’t something materialistic so what was it? He re-examined the conversation he and Jaster had held, picked it apart in his mind to try and figure out if it was something the other man had said that triggered this sense of discontent inside of him. 

But try though he might, he couldn’t quite pin down what it was that had set him in such a maudlin mood. And that in itself was oddly frustrating because Plo was used to knowing himself, a Jedi was trained and expected to be able to know themselves first and foremost so that they could recognize the important line in the sand between the Light and the Dark. When a Jedi lost the ability to know themselves then it was painfully easy to step over that line. 

He tried to tell himself it was simply the uncertainty of his own death that had him out of sorts. Plo Koon had faced death before, had even come perilously close to dying but this slow inexorable creep towards death was something different. He’d never considered the possibility he might die _slowly_. He’d always assumed his death would be swift and that maybe he would go out in a blaze of glory. 

Maybe that was foolishness on his part. 

“...the kriff…?” Plo was pulled out of his ruminations by the sound of Jaster’s confused exclamation when he found himself entangled in the Jedi’s robe. “Where did… _why_ am I covered in your karking robe?”

“You are visibly shivering and the temperature has reached near zero.”

“I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity, I am simply trying to maximize your chances of survival.” The Jedi said serenely and his logic was so irrefutable, it briefly shut the Mandalorian up. “If I thought you wouldn’t find it too objectionable I would suggest finding a way of bundling up together to share body-heat but I suspect that may be too hard in microgravity. Not without a means in which to tether ourselves to something.”

“I know I’m a surly _chakaar_ , but if it was a choice between freezing to death and getting up close and personal with a Jedi, I would in fact choose to live. But I also think you’re right, we’d go bouncing off the walls each time one of us so much as twitched.”

“Then please accept the loan of my robes for now instead.”

“Fine, have it your way.” And then after a moment. “Thank you.” Let it not be said Jaster Mereel didn’t know how to be courteous when the situation called for it.

“You are welcome.” The smile in the Kel Dor’s voice was unmistakable.

“I can take the next watch if you want to try and sleep?”

“I’ve been meditating while you were resting in an attempt to try and speed up my body’s natural healing progress.”

Jaster’s helmet tilted at him but it was impossible to read the man’s face yet he managed to convey his exasperation through body language alone. “Suit yourself.” 

He lapsed into silence for a few minutes and while Jaster wasn’t the type to feel the need to needlessly fill the air with idle chatter, he also wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to gather intel on the _Jetii_ if he could.

“So...you know about me, what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“Yeah, you know a lot about me, seems only fair you tell me about a little about yourself. What else are we going to do but stare at that karking beacon for the next ten hours?” 

The Jedi seemed to consider that for a few moments before finally nodding in agreement. “You are correct, what would you like to know?”

“Maybe you can clear up some questions and rumors I’ve been told over the years. Some people say Jedi take kids away from their families or even kidnap them but I figure that’s a load of _osik_ cause otherwise, you’d have the entire Republic up in arms over hoards of kids getting kidnapped.”

“That is a most disturbing rumor and one that is unequivocally untrue. We do not kidnap younglings. Many Jedi come from families who have a tradition of producing Force sensitive children. That is my story in fact. I was discovered by my uncle who is also a Jedi and I was sent to train at the temple when I was a youngling. I in turn realized when I returned home that my niece Sha was Force sensitive and now she is in training. For those who do not come from a tradition, life is often hard and even fraught with danger or uncertainty in part because the child might not know how to control themselves. Imagine what you would do if your toddler suddenly had the ability to move his toys around the room, it is cute at first. But if they remain untrained and suddenly in a fit of anger or a temper tantrum start throwing the furniture or the tableware around then it can become very scary for those ill-prepared to handle it. Many seek out the Temple because they are at their wits' end and want what is best for their child.”

“I imagine a child with those sorts of abilities could also have some value to slavers too. Perhaps being a _Jetii_ is not such a terrible alternative.”

Jaster’s comment drew an audible hiss from Plo Koon and his thickly taloned hands curled reflexively, it was the closest he had seen the Jedi come to anger and the Mandalorian made note of that reaction. “Yes, there are some who prey upon the vulnerable and we do what we can to interfere with the illegal trafficking of Force sensitive children. It is...especially prevalent in some Outer Rim regions, I am sorry to say. But we try and save as many as we can.” 

“Too bad you can’t save the non-Force sensitive ones.” Jaster couldn’t quite stop himself from quipping and that earned him a sharp look.

“We try to stop the illegal traffic of all children, Jaster. Some things are too unspeakable and vile that it transcends simple ideology.” 

“Okay, I guess it’s a little unfair to expect you to rid the entire galaxy of slavers, especially since there’s always going to the truly evil and depraved who will prey upon the weak and powerless.”

“In life, there must be a balance in all things. I do wish there was more that we could do but there must be limits otherwise you run the risk of being seen as despotic or overreaching your powers. That is part of the reason I am working in this sector because I do wish to do more to help.” 

“You’re an idealist.” 

“You say that as though it is a bad thing?” The Kel Dor phrased the statement with a questioning tone at the end of it.

“Not bad but...hard to maintain. Some of the most bitter people I know used to be idealists but life ground them down.” 

“I believe there can be a balance of believing you can make a positive difference in the universe and maintaining a realistic expectation of what change you can feasibly hope to make. If you wish to dub that idealism, so be it.”

“If we’re both still kicking around in five years' time, come talk to me then and we’ll see how that’s working out for you.”

“You have a deal.” Plo Koon agreed with unexpected eagerness and judging by the subtle stilling of Jaster’s respirations, the Mandalorian hadn’t been expecting that. 

“I guess it’s a date.” Judging by the heavy lacing of irony in the man’s voice, he’d deliberately chosen his words to provoke a reaction because Jedi most definitely did not go on dates. 

But Plo Koon wasn’t so easily knocked off balance apparently. “I shall look forward to it.”

“You are definitely a strange Jedi.” The Mandalorian finally declared rather than admit he’d gotten verbally outwitted twice in a row by this damned _Jetii_.

“Speaking from your vast experience with Jedi, I’m sure.” 

“Like I said, _sassy_.”

“It is a good thing you are used to sassing then.” Plo teased, calling back on Jaster’s earlier comments. “If it makes you feel any better, I have been known to vex my poor Master as well. In point of fact, I believe the two of you would get on well together. Or perhaps instantly detest one another, it could go either way.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, he is...very blunt and plainspoken. Some people find him challenging to deal with but I have been truly honored to have been taught by him.” 

“I’d rather deal with someone who is plainspoken than one who can talk around a subject using all sorts of pretty words without actually saying anything at all.”

“So pretty much any politician ever?”

“Exactly. Kriffing useless, the lot of them. Well, except as paying clients." Jaster somewhat reluctantly conceded. 

“And is that all it takes to buy your patience then? Credits?” The Jedi somehow managed to phrase the question in such a way that it didn’t _outright_ sound like an accusation though it was a near thing.

“A man’s gotta eat. I have people who rely upon me and at least mercenary work is honest work. There are plenty of people out there in the universe who can’t or won’t fight their own battles. People know if they hire us, we won’t rape and pillage their people or wholesale slaughter their civilians. That we will fight with honor and when we get paid for, we stay paid for.” There was an unmistakable note of pride in the man’s voice when he said that.

“Your reputation is well-earned, we have even heard of it in the Republic. I just cannot imagine serving without believing in a cause.”

“We have belief, we simply don’t swear it to anyone else’s banner.”

“But what happens if you find yourself serving someone or some cause that is truly abhorrent? Do you never find yourself put in a situation where you might be forced to do something unconscionable because you have sworn yourself to the wrong side?”

“We don’t just whore ourselves out to the person offering the highest amount of money. Our reputation allows us to pick and choose which conflicts we decide to engage ourselves in." He said a little irritably before he pinned the Jedi with another searching look. "You sure have a lot of questions about the mercenary life, Plo Koon. Are you debating giving up the aesthetic life and going rogue?” Jaster deflected smoothly as he tried to distract the Jedi rather than continue this potential landmine riddled conversation. 

Normally he would happily hold some kind of debate with his people’s mortal enemy over the moralistic integrity of Mandalorians acting as mercenaries but those kinds of debates often got heated and quite frankly, he was having an incredibly bad day and that just sounded like it required more energy than he currently had to deal with.

Once more though, the Kel Dor smoothly evaded Jaster’s attempt at teasing and taunting with the same placid humor he’d employed repeatedly. It made Jaster wonder just what it would take to get under the man’s skin but that was a dangerous curiosity to have about a _Jetii_ even he could recognize that.

“No, I do not believe I would make a very good mercenary.”

“The idea of a Force sensitive merc does sound a bit unfair to the competition. Though there has been at least one _Mand’alor_ who was also a _Jetii_ so perhaps there is some precedent.” 

“Really?” Plo Koon asked, both surprised and intrigued by that little tidbit. “I was unaware of that.”

“It’s been a long time, not surprising your people have forgotten about it. Most _Mando’ade_ have as well. His name was Tarre Vizsla, they say he had a black lightsaber called the darksaber.”

“Fascinating, I will look him up in the archives the next time I return to the Temple.”

“I’d be interested to hear what you find, maybe we can compare notes.”

“I think you have a bit of a scholar’s heart underneath all that armor, Jaster.” Warmth filled the Kel Dor’s voice when he said that and it earned him a wry sounding chuckle from the other man.

“Maybe in another life. We tend to rely upon oral histories to keep our old tales alive. Not too many people bother to actually write that stuff down. So any opportunity to continue the traditions is a worthy goal in my mind.” 

“A noble goal indeed, I think you and Master Nu would get along quite well, now that I think about it.”

“Another _Jetii_ you think I would like, huh? You sound like you’re trying to fill up my social calendar.” Much to Jaster’s amusement, he could have almost sworn the mottled colors of Plo Koon’s skin deepened in what he could only assume was the Kel Dor version of a blush perhaps.

“Perhaps I simply wish for you to meet a like-minded Jedi who can help answer some of your more burning questions about the Order. Jocasta Nu is the head archivist and keeping the histories of the Jedi Order alive is her life’s passion.”

“Okay, she doesn’t sound too bad...for a _Jetii_.” Jaster made sure to inject enough humor in his voice that the joke carried even if Plo Koon couldn’t see the smirk on his face.

“I suppose that is as high a praise a Jedi can hope to receive.” The Kel Dor teased right back good-naturedly. 

“That...remains to be seen. Ask me again when I’m not freezing my poor _gett'se_ off.”

“We could try huddling for warmth after all? We could try anchoring ourselves in place with my sash? It may be long enough to wrap around both of us and an anchor point?”

“Let’s save that as a last resort. I’m barely keeping my breakfast down as it is strapped down to this chair.” 

“We train for zero-gee environments but I don’t think even I’ve been forced to endure microgravity for this long, it’s definitely not the most pleasant of sensations.” The Jedi agreed unhappily.

“I’d much rather have my boots on solid ground than be in space. At this point, I might actually drop down and kiss the ground when I make planetfall.”

“If we find ourselves back on Akiva, I don’t know if I would recommend that.”

“Kark that, once I finish with that worm I am never setting foot on that kriffing mudhole again.” 

“I can certainly-” Whatever Plo Koon had been about to say was interrupted by the ship’s proximity alarm going off shrilly indicating a ship was approaching thanks to the still running proximity alarm.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescued at last!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up splitting the last chapter into two because it was approaching 9K and even I can recognize that might be a bit too much to digest. I had no bloody clue how to denote Wookie speech and then decided to just wholesale lift what they did in the old Dark Horse comics with using guillemets so my apologies to anyone who isn't a native English speaker wondering why I am assaulting your quotation marks. I'm working on finishing up the editing on the final chapter which I'll probably post tomorrow assuming life decides to cooperate.

Both the Jedi and the Mandalorian flinched and Jaster yanked his seat back into an upright position so he could reach the controls. “Okay, I can power the shields for maybe five minutes.”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary.” It was hard to tell with a Kel Dor considering the goggles and the antiox mask but Jaster got the distinct impression Plo Koon had some weird look on his face as he no doubt ‘communed’ with the Force or whatever _osik_ it was that Jedi did.

“Not exactly filling me with warm, fuzzy feelings here, Plo.” Jaster’s hands paused on the controls as he shot the Kel Dor an impatient look before he finished the input to at least cycle back on the artificial gravity. If it came to fighting, Jaster would rather do it without worrying about his blaster bolts sending him careening through the air. 

“Be at ease, my friend, we are not in danger. It’s my old Master, he must have picked up our distress signal.” Plo Koon reassured him as the artificial gravity kicked in and he immediately moved to undo the belt that had secured him in place in the seat.

“Great, more Jedi.” He absolutely refused to acknowledge the flash of relief in knowing it wasn’t the Hutt’s goons returning to blow them out of the sky, something he’d privately laid even odds on that happening. 

“It could be worse, it could be your favorite Hutt sending his men to finish us off.” The Jedi teased and levered himself to his feet carefully with a wince as even that movement disturbed his wounds.

“Did you just read my kriffing mind?”

“Of course not, I told you I do not do that without express permission.”

“Except in life and death, extenuating circumstances, right?” 

Plo Koon’s mottled patches went dark momentarily in that curious Kel Dor version of a flush. “Yes, except in life or death circumstances. But I assure you, even then I did my level best to not actively read your thoughts.” 

“Fine, I believe you.” Jaster finally said somewhat grudgingly and told himself it had just been a freak coincidence. But to his surprise, he did find he believed the Jedi, something he never thought he’d say. He wasn’t ready to just roll over and play ball with the _Jetii_ like those soft-handed, soft-hearted New Mandalorians. 

But his opinion on this Jedi at least was generally favorable. 

“Thank you,” Plo Koon murmured and started to limp towards the door. Jaster hurried to unbuckle himself as well and shot to his feet so he could rush after the _di'kutla Jetii_ before he ended up flat on his face.

“Hold up, before you keel over.” Jaster groused at him and after a moment’s hesitation, ducked under the taller man’s arm and slung it over his shoulders so he could support the Jedi’s weight.

Plo Koon immediately sagged against him with an audible sigh of relief. “My thanks, Jaster.” 

“Well, I just hope you’re right about this being your Master cause otherwise we are farkled if someone comes through that airlock shooting.” 

“It is Tyvokka, you needn’t worry, my friend.” The Jedi briefly squeezed his armor covered shoulder with that giant clawed paw of his and Jaster pretended that didn’t set off all sorts of warning bells in his hindbrain. He’d seen what a Trandoshan could do with their talons and the Kel Dor’s looked twice as big, not even including those weird metal claw tips he wore. 

“Yeah, well, let’s hope he doesn’t blame me for you coming home with a hole in your gut.” The Mandalorian pointed out blandly. “I know I’d have a lot of karking questions if my kid showed up on death’s door with a kriffing _Jetii_.” 

“I have already briefed him on the details of what has happened.” Plo Koon reassured him, tapping the side of his head with his free hand to indicate he’d contacted his former Master telepathically via the remnants of their old training bond. 

“Right, _Jetii_ Force magic.” 

“It isn’t magic, Jaster.”

“Might as well be.” They were almost at the airlock and Jaster could feel the airlock engage as the other Jedi started the sequence to connect their ships. Fresh air spilled out as the airlock cycled and with it, came a wash of heat. “Thank the Little Gods.” 

“Indeed.” Plo Koon didn’t feel the cold as sharply as a human did but that didn’t mean he was immune to it. 

Once the secondary airlock had cycled a huge Wookie that stooped down and ducked his head so he wouldn’t bang it on the doorway and stepped onto the ship. Plo Koon could feel Jaster’s surprise and flash of instinctive wariness light up the Force around him and unfortunately, so could Tyvokka. 

The Mandalorian went stiff against the Jedi but to his credit, he didn’t immediately try and reach for his weapon though Plo Koon could feel his knee-jerk instinct to do just that. 

“Master, thank you for coming to our aid.” The Kel Dor made sure to stress the word _Master_ in hopes it would put his wary companion at ease. 

Tyvokka pinned them both of them with a look and bleated a question at them that ended in a dull sort of roar. 

«What trouble have you gotten into this time, Plo? I can’t say I approve of your new friend here.» 

The alarm radiating from Jaster raked against Plo Koon’s senses and he instinctively squeezed the human’s shoulder again in an attempt to soothe him. “We both ran afoul of a Hutt and his accomplices. This Jaster Mareel, he saved my life.” He said and slanted a look over at the Mandalorian. “Jaster, this is my Master, Tyvokka.”

«Seems jumpy, that one.» Tyvokka scoffed and the soft hooting noises he made was a Wookie's version of a chuckle. 

“Right, this day could not possibly get any weirder. Nice to meet you, Master Tyvokka.” Jaster finally seemed to regain some of his senses and dipped his head in a cordial enough nod though he did not proffer his hand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to put his limbs anywhere within reach of the Wookie considering what he’d heard and seen them do with his own kriffing eyes. 

“Plo Koon needs immediate medical attention. I have a medical droid on-board but without a proper surgical theater his insides are probably being held together with bacta and pressure bandages.”

“The droid was quite capable, as a matter of fact.” The younger Jedi protested automatically. Jaster and Tyvokka’s eyes met which was quite the feat considering the Mando was wearing his helmet but somehow they both managed to silently convey their exasperation without needing to say a word.

“Fine, bacta and a couple of sutures but you need a real doctor, you _dini'la Jetii_.” 

“Master, I hope you brought a ship that can seat more than one.”

«I had a vision you were in trouble and that my normal ship would not be of use. So I liberated a pleasure vessel to rescue you.» 

“Master…” Plo Koon couldn’t quite manage to mask his dismay and that single word carried enough layers of meaning even Jaster to slant a questioning look his way.

“What? What is he saying?” The Mandalorian asked somewhat skeptically. He didn’t understand what Tyvokka was saying but Plo Koon’s reaction told him it couldn’t be anything good. 

«Would you rather I had not and come to your rescue in a single-seat starfighter instead?» Tyvokka demanded sharply and that came out as a dull roar which had Jaster’s hand automatically falling to the butt of his pistol.

“Well, no, and I do appreciate your timing and foresight, Master, I simply wish you hadn’t resorted to ‘creative liberation’ as you put it to accomplish it. Master Yoda is going to have a conniption if he finds out.” 

«Yoda needs more excitement in his life. It keeps him from becoming complacent.» Tyvokka scoffed. «Bring your new Mandalorian friend and let’s get out of here. You are looking rather pale, Plo. I do think we need to get you to a proper medical doctor.»

“Very well, Tyvokka. I actually don’t know where we are at, the navigation system was damaged in the firefight. What is the closest planet?” 

«We can reach Ord Cestus within a few hours.»

“Tyvokka says we are a few hours out of Ord Cestus.” Plo Koon translated for Jaster’s benefit. “Do you want to send a message to your people telling you that they can rendezvous with you there? Or we can take you to Mandalore?”

Jaster mentally considered that suggestion and had to fight back a wince. A Jedi Wookie on Mandalore? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.

He didn't hold to the traditions of claiming trophies or pelts like some of the more barbaric members of his people. But Jaster wasn't so naive as to think parading a couple of _Jettise_ , one of which was a kriffing Wookie around Mandalore wouldn't end in a bad time all around. That was like waving a bloody steak in front of a hungry akk dog. 

"I don't think that's a good idea." Jaster hedged and the Wookie trilled softly at the Kel Dor.

«I agree with your Mandalorian, that would be a terrible idea. We are not popular on his planet and I like my fur where it is.»

"He's not...ugh." Plo broke off mid-sentence. "Let's just go, shall we?" He didn't want to admit it but the pain meds the med-droid had given him had worn off and he could feel the pain in his torso pulse with every beat of his heart. Sitting down sounded pretty good right now.

Tyvokka shot him a concerned look and reached out a huge paw and completely dwarfed Plo Koon's shoulder. «Come, I will show you to a bunk, I can sense your pain.»

“Can you take him? I would like to grab a few things from my bunk.” Jaster asked the Wookie and when the large creature nodded at him, he carefully transferred Plo Koon over to Tyvokka. “I won’t be long, I promise.” 

Like most Mandalorians, Jaster traveled light and fast, there wasn’t time for sentimental clinging to material possessions. Anything that couldn’t fit in a pack was typically abandoned but he did have a few things he would hate to see vaporized if Qadab’s mooks returned to blow his ship out of the sky. 

Once he reached his bunk, he quickly started to grab things and shove them into a rucksack. His journal, a knife he’d inherited from his mother which he’d planned on gifting to Jango someday soon, was shoved into the bag with some care along with a spare datapad. He grabbed up the pendant that had been handed down from his father’s side of the family for generations and yanked the necklace over his head and quickly tucked it away inside his shirt. 

Jaster was relieved that he’d had the foresight to leave it behind rather than wear it when he'd gone to Akiva because the idea of it landing in the hands of that sleemo Hutt or one of his men was upsetting. Two changes of clothes, some credits, and the remnants of the medical kit which he grabbed on his way back to the ship filled up the rest of the space in his pack. 

After a second’s hesitation, Jango grabbed the powered down med-droid as well just in case Plo Koon’s condition turned critical for whatever reason. With that, he quickly made his way for the airlock and forced himself to not look back over his shoulder at his ship as he stepped through it. The realization he might never see it again struck him and Jaster felt a flash of regret at the thought. He and that damn ship had been through a lot together, he’d hate to lose her but he also knew that at the end of the day, it was just a ship and he could get another one but only if he lived through this entire farkled affair. 

He steeled himself and stepped through the airlock to the other side. Jaster moved to the control panel and they looked familiar enough that he was able to figure out the sequence to close the airlock and start the decoupling procedure that would free them from the ship. After the display flashed green to indicate it was complete, he turned his attention to the rather swanky looking pleasure yacht he found himself on. 

It was all sleek lines and shiny metal fit for the most disgustingly wealthy despot or corrupt politician. It was crafted with all manner of creature comforts and Jaster was certain it cost more than most people made their entire lifetimes. He automatically found himself fighting back a sneer of distaste right up until he remembered what Plo had said before about his Master ‘creatively liberating’ which he assumed meant they were currently joyriding around in the yacht of some very upset and affronted mogul. 

The irony was not lost on him and brought a spark of petty amusement to his heart as he went in search of the two Jedi.

He followed the lowing rumble of Tyvokka which led him to one of the overly opulent quarters. The two _Jetiise_ looked wholly out of place amongst the glitz and glamor of the richly appointed room with it’s no doubt overly soft bed where Plo Koon was being settled onto. Jaster strongly suspected he was bleeding onto those expensive sheets and he spared a thought once more for the outraged owner of this pleasure cruiser.

Good, he hoped he billed the Jedi Order for the cost of the replacement for now ruined bedding. He might not mind the likes of Plo Koon but the rest of the Jedi Order was still fair game for his judgment and wholesale mistrustful dislike. In true Mando fashion, Jaster was on neither the side of the _Jetii_ or the no doubt disgustingly rich owner of this ship which left him free to revel in the misfortunes of both. 

Even if he was surprised to find a part of him didn’t like the way Plo flinched in obvious discomfort as his ginormous Master carefully eased him down onto the bed. He might not know Kel Dor anatomy but even he noticed the alien’s skin looked a little less vibrant and had an almost gray tinge to it. 

“I brought the med droid and what’s left of the medkit.” Jaster announced as he stepped into the room and set the droid down on top of the holotable. 

The Wookie looked over at him and made a weird moaning noise at him that sounded almost approving so the human guessed he was being given permission to boot it back up again. 

“Thank you, Jaster. I fear I may have pulled a stitch.” Plo said softly and Jaster guessed that was typical _Jetii osik_ to mean he’d done a lot worse than simply pulled a stitch or two. 

“Uh huh.” He scoffed, not even bothering to hide his disbelief, and started to unpack the medpack for the droid which powered up with a cheerful sounding chime. 

“Oh my, this is nicer but still not an operating theater.” The droid unhelpfully pointed out as it floated over to Plo Koon. “Do we at least have proper medical supplies on this vessel? I see the patient has managed to undo all my hard work.”

“I dunno, I’ll see what’s available? Tyvokka, do you happen to know where they keep their medical supplies on this crate?” 

For the first time in his life, Jaster found himself regretting the fact he didn’t speak Shyriiwook because he hadn’t the faintest clue what the latest string of growls and bleating that Tyvokka made at him meant. Thankfully, he had his handy _Jetii_ translator on hand and capable of answering. Little Gods help him when Plo Koon was drugged back up to the gills. He was going to be well and truly karked then.

“He says it is one deck below in the crew quarters.” 

“Right, of course. I’ll be right back.” Jaster fought the urge to roll his eyes heavenward because of course the rich would hide all signs or reminders of unpleasantness out of sight amongst the peasants. It was easy enough to locate the hidden staircase that took him down one deck to the much more utilitarian and nowhere near as fancy world of the hired help. 

It probably said a lot about Jaster’s personality that he immediately felt more at home in this much more simple environment than he did amongst the opulence and extravagance of the playground of the rich upstairs. He located the surprisingly well-appointed med-kit as well as a much fancier medical droid than what he’d had on his ship. Not surprising, he supposed when your pockets were as deep as the owner of his vessel. 

But no actual operating theater set up and Jaster wondered what the owner’s plans were if they or a guest were so injured they actually needed emergency medical treatment. Did they just hope and pray their fancy meddroid could keep them alive? It sounded like the kind of impracticality he expected out of the braindead rich. Still, the droid probably had better medical programming than his droid so he powered it up.

“Follow me, you have a patient.” He instructed it as he deposited the medical supplies in its manipulators and the droid answered him in a language he didn’t know. This was getting old, fast. Jaster liked to think he was a fairly worldly Mandalorian who spoke half a dozen of the more popular languages used in Galactic trade and could get by in another six or seven passable if slightly broken languages. You needed to be able to negotiate readily in his line of work but the galaxy at large was so much bigger and contained thousands if not millions of dialects. He outright refused to deal with the hassle of a protocol droid to aid him in translation but as today had taught him, those obnoxious droids had their uses. 

Maybe he should invest in one of those translatacomps at the very least.

“I brought some help, assuming this droid knows how to work on a Kel Dor.” Which was something he hadn’t considered beforehand and now found himself questioning too late. Thankfully, the droid seemed to know what it needed to do because it skirted around Jaster and stepped into the now way too crowded bunk to get to work assisting the other meddroid with Plo Koon.

The large Wookie gracefully stepped out of the droids’ way and moved to exit the bunk room as well, seemingly content to leave his student in the capable hands of the droids. It took every ounce of the Mandalorian’s self-control to not flinch when it's furry paw landed heavily on his shoulder and the _Jetii_ nudged him in the direction of the cockpit. 

Great. Just…..great. Still, what else was he going to do? Wring his hands uselessly while the droids worked on Plo Koon? Hover around with nothing else to do? That wasn’t his speed, he much preferred _doing something_ and at least in the cockpit, he could make use of the pleasure yacht’s functioning coms to reach out to his people and warn them of Qadab’s treachery so none of them went anywhere near Akiva.

So with no small amount of trepidation, he followed the Wookie towards the cockpit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, thanks to everyone who has commented, left a kudo and generally been awesome. I'll be honest, I didn't expect anyone to read this cause this is the most obscure of rarepairs ever and who would be interested in some random nerdy Mando dad with like 3 issues of comic canon from a decade ago paling around with everyone's favorite Jedi Dad? Way more than I expected and it fills me with glee and happiness. I will be writing more for these two for this cracky project of mine. Though next up I have a Vox fic I'm trying to finish and then I'm off to writing something for Delta Squad from the RepCom series. So it may be a couple of weeks until I get around to writing some follow-up stuff. If you have suggestions, want to just shout at me about SW in general, hit me up over on [tumblr ](https://bylightofdawn.tumblr.com/). My askbox is always open and I am down to nerd out about stuff at any time.

The moment they reached the cockpit, Jaster availed himself of the copilot’s seat. “Going to contact my people.” He explained to the Wookie and it nodded at him as it settled into the far too small seat which was clearly not made for a Wookie’s height or bulk. Somehow the _Jetii_ managed to maintain an air of dignity all the same. 

Jaster finished inputting the communications signal into the ship’s system and switched the audio to his helmet’s internal feed. He made a note to scrub the data from the ship’s computer after he was done so that there was no chance of his Supercommando’s comm lines falling into the hands of the Jedi or anyone else. 

To his surprise, it was Montross of all people who answered the connection. “Go for Montross.”

“Montross? It’s Jaster,”

“Jaster! Kriff me, we thought you were dead.”

“Heh, not quite yet though not for lack of trying on certain soon to be dead _aruetiise_ parts.”

“Good to know, your brat will be delighted to hear you haven’t marched off to the _Manda_ just yet.”

“Please make sure Jango doesn’t do anything spectacularly stupid in my absence?”

“It’s fine, we locked him in a supply closet to keep him from trying to steal a ship and go chasing after you once we lost contact with your ship.”

“....fantastic.” Jaster couldn’t quite mask his dismay at that mental image. It seemed like just the kind of heavy-handed, boneheaded thing his second in command would do though. And knowing how stubborn Jango was, it was probably for the best. But it wasn’t going to be winning Montross any popularity points with his adopted son either. 

“Look, can you send a ship to rendezvous with me on Ord Cestus?”

“I thought you were going to Akiva?”

“It was a trap, if we have any people headed that way, warn them off, would you? The local Hutt is in the pocket of that _hut'uun_ Vizla and Death Watch.” 

“ _Haar'chak!_ I warned you not to go on your own, Jaster.” To his credit, Montross actually sounded upset and mildly concerned. “Your stubbornness is going to get you killed one day.”

“Probably, but it hasn’t yet. Just make sure our people stay safe, _ner vod_.” 

“Of course. Should I send your _verd'ika?_ I could do with getting him out of my hair for a little while.” Jango and Montross mixed about as well as oil and water and Jaster didn’t understand it. He didn’t know if it was because his second just didn’t like kids underfoot or what but the two of them constantly bickered and generally made their dislike of one another apparent. Thankfully, Jango was too damn young to take the older Mandalorian on but Jaster dreaded the day his adopted son was big enough to pick a proper fight with the other man. 

That day was going to be bloody and violent but he also recognized the fact that they needed to figure out just where they stood in the pecking order. 

Jaster debated the wisdom of throwing Jango into this mess versus leaving him to no doubt stew and further sour any hope of friendly future relations between his adopted son and his second in command. He’d fully intended on heading off to Akiva after this but now he found himself hesitating over immediately jumping back into the fray. As much as his blood called out for revenge, he also knew that he needed more intel and more importantly, more people to carry out an op that had any success in rousting that slimy worm out of his bolthole. 

“Fine, send Jango with the team. I’m going to need some mechanics too, they trashed the ship.”

“You got it, boss. Anything else?”

“No, thank you for holding down the fort, Montross.” While he and his second sometimes butted heads, Jaster tried to make sure every one of his _ori'ramikad_ knew that they were valued and appreciated. 

“ _Ret'urcye mhi, ner vod_.” The other Mandalorian said a little husky, drawing upon that traditional goodbye instead of awkwardly acknowledging Jaster’s words.

“ _Ret'urcye mhi_ , Montross.” Jaster repeated before ending the connection. He quickly went about scrubbing the communications signal from the ship’s computer system. “My people will meet me on Ord Cestus.” 

The dark-furred Wookie withdrew a slender datapad and fiddled with it briefly even though the pad was absolutely dwarfed by the size of the creature’s paw-like hands as the Wookie held it out to him. Tyvokka rumbled out something that ended in a sharp bark and to Jaster’s surprise, the datapad suddenly started to translate its speech in a crisp Coruscanti male voice that was so utterly out of place considering the deep growl of the Wookie’s actual voice. 

“Good. Now, tell me how you and Plo ended up in this situation?” The pad translated in that smooth voice.

“I can’t speak for how Plo Koon got injured, I got jumped on Akiva trying to chase down a lead. They knocked me out and I woke up on the ship with him. Those _hut'uun_ bantha kriffers were planning on murdering the both of us and staging it like we’d killed each other. As far as I can tell, they are hoping to re-stoke the fire of conflict between Jedi and _Mando’ade_.”

“Not to undersell the importance of my student, I highly doubt the mutual destruction of a Mandalorian and a Jedi would be enough to spark another conflict between our people.” 

“I never said it was a _good_ plan or a particularly smart one. He’s got a kriffing hole in his abdomen clearly caused by a bowcaster and I’m not known for carting around that kind of ordinance.”

“So rash and stupid, I much prefer those traits in my enemies.” The translation software couldn’t manage to convey the Wookie’s amusement but Jaster picked it up all the same courtesy of the chuffing noise of the creature’s laughter. 

“You and me both.” The human agreed sarcastically. “We took out the Weequay but the Trandoshan trashed my ship’s computers so we were stuck floating out there waiting to die. I guess I owe you my thanks for saving our _shebs_.” 

“You saved my student’s life, that is enough,” Tyvokka replied, easily waving off Jaster’s thanks. “He is vexing at times but he is important to me. I am glad he did not die at the hands of such cowards.”

“He saved me right back so we’re even.” Jaster tried to wave the thanks off a little discomfited mainly because he didn’t know how to react to a damn Jedi thanking him. 

The Wookie eyed him with those far too keen and intelligent eyes. More than one Mandalorian stupidly assumed Wookies were little more than mindless, violent beasts but anyone who met this Wookie would realize that couldn’t be any further from the truth. 

It felt like the creature was silently dissecting him, weighing and judging the intimate pieces of his mind and it was wholly uncomfortable and automatically had Jaster’s hackles rising. 

_Jetii_ sorcery at its worst.

“You keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna start wondering if you’re thinking about eating my liver or kriffing me.” Jaster finally growled, unable to stand the scrutiny anymore. His words momentarily seemed to surprise the Wookie but then he let out a bark of unmistakable laughter. 

“Your liver and virtue are safe with me, I’m not interested in either, Mandalorian.” The datapad’s voice was so bland and accentless, it couldn’t even begin to convey the Wookie’s true meaning. Instead, it delivered that statement in a dispassionate, almost flat tone. “You are interesting, I can see why my former padawan likes you.”

“Thank you?” What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Jaster wasn’t sure if like was the appropriate term considering he and Plo Koon hadn’t even known each other more than a standard rotation. Or just what the Wookie meant when he made that observation. He filed that away for later to examine.

“Plo Koon has been surrounded by very upstanding and very well behaved Jedi for most of his life and it has made him a very appropriately humble Jedi. But if he is going to survive in the galaxy at large, he’s going to need to embrace a less regimented, proper Jedi mindset. I think meeting interesting, more worldly beings such as yourself will help expand his mindset.”

“You do realize the moment we reach Ord Cestus that I’m gone, right? What I’m going to do next isn’t anything a _Jetii_ wants anything to do with as Plo has made abundantly clear.”

“I am aware but I also know the Force moves in curious and often mysterious ways. I do not think that it will be the last time your paths cross, Mandalorian.” Tyvokka had seen a curious convergence between the two men but he kept that to himself lest he accidentally say something that would send Jaster careening in the opposite direction out of spite or fear. 

“The cryptic Jedi sorcery _osik_ is definitely as infuriating as I’ve been told.”

That garnered him another bark and a chuffing laugh from the Wookie. 

“So I’ve heard, I do try and keep it to a minimum but sometimes it slips out unconsciously.”

“....right. Well, I’m going to start digging through the data I gathered from the mercs and check in on Plo Koon. You got this?”

“This ship could fly itself, I think I will manage.” Tyvokka rumbled as he turned his attention to the controls. 

“I’ll be in the common area if you need me for anything.” With that, he left the cockpit behind and made his way back into the communal areas of the ship. The first stop was the berth where the two medical droids were working on Plo Koon. He’d been half afraid of what he’d see or if they were still in the process of operating on the Kel Dor . Jaster had seen a few open cavity surgeries and it was a puke-inducing horrorshow he had no interest in repeating yet again but thankfully, the worst of the surgery seemed to be out of the way because they were bandaging Plo Koon back up.

“Cee-Zee, how is he doing?” Jaster asked neutrally. 

“The patient will live. This med-droid unit is _quite_ rude but very capable.”

The other droid said something Jaster thought _might_ be Huttese but it could have been Dug. 

“Nice to see the two of you are getting along so well. We should reach Ord Cestus within a few hours, just try and keep him comfortable until then. I’ll be outside so let me know if he wakes up?”

“Copy that.” 

Jaster picked up the rucksack he’d left in the berth and carried it with him out into the common area where a dejarik holotable was set up. He laid out the datapad and downloaded the intel he’d uploaded into his comlink onto it so he could begin following the digital trail of the Hutt’s associates. 

He wasn’t a slicer by any stretch of the imagination but even Jaster could follow the messages exchanged between the various mercs and their employer, in part because the _di’kuta chakaare_ hadn’t even bothered with the most basic of encryption. 

Trying to read the datapad screen through the gouged up visor of his helmet was giving him a headache but Jaster found himself somewhat reluctant to remove his helmet here. Both because of the strange Jedi flying the ship but also because he didn’t know what kind of surveillance the ship had. So he made due as best he could but after an hour or so, his eyes were beginning to burn from the strain of it all and he put the datapad away for now. 

He’d hand it off to the more technologically inclined members of his people and see what they could gain from it. Jaster was debating whether or not he wanted to take another snap nap when he heard someone approach. The rustle of fabric let him know it was probably a _Jetii_ and sure enough, Plo Koon walked gingerly into the common area. 

“I’d make a statement about how I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be resting but something tells me that would be a waste of breath.” The Mandalorian drawled as he eyed the Jedi while he approached the dejarik and carefully lowered himself into a chair slowly. 

“We wouldn’t want you to waste your breath needlessly.” Plo agreed and chuckled a little breathlessly. “I never was very good about just laying about and since the droids have me on so many pain meds I can’t feel my face, might as well make use of my time.”

“This is my surprised face.” So said the man in the helmet. 

“Cute, nice to see your sense of humor remains intact, Jaster.” 

“I’m a regular comedian. Do you think my act is good enough to hang up the mercenary gig and go on the road?”

“I don’t think you should quit your day job just yet.” Plo Koon teased playfully and indicated the dejarik table. “Do you play?” 

“I’m more of a cu'bikad fan myself but I’ve played a couple of games.” 

“You know, I’ve heard that exact same thing right before I lost every credit I owned to a fellow initiate in sabaac.” 

That earned him a hearty laugh from Jaster who held up his hands in an innocent-looking shrug. “I am definitely not a good sabaac player, never had the ability to bluff effectively.”

“I’ll note you didn’t refute being an experienced dejarik player.” Plo Koon teased playfully. 

“I didn’t? Well, imagine that.” Jaster said with mock-evidence but the man seemed to realize that any chance he had at potentially fleecing the Jedi was up and saw no need to continue the charade. “I like strategy games. Sabaac, you’re reliant upon luck of the draw. I dislike leaving anything to chance.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” It was impossible to see the Kel Dor’s eyes from this distance and the mask completely hid the man’s mouth but Jaster got the distinct impression the Jedi was smiling at him ever so slightly. There was a hint of softness in the Jedi’s voice that he didn’t quite know what to make of. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaster shot back but the question lacked any real teeth or accusation. 

“Simply that you strike me as a very thorough individual so leaving anything to chance would be out of character for someone like yourself.” 

“...well, you read me like a holobook.” The Mandalorian admitted with a hefty dose of self-effacing humor. “See, this is why I don’t play sabaac. Can’t bluff to save my life.” 

“Nor can I if we are being honest. But I do enjoy strategy games because I don’t have to rely on luck. So perhaps there is an element of personal observation in that statement.” Plo Koon admitted with a chuckle. 

Against his will, Jaster found himself liking this damn Jedi more and more. Maybe it was because he recognized a kindred spirit in the Kel Dor? “Yeah, yeah, set up the board. And don’t think I’m going to take it easy on you just cause you’re loopy on pain meds either, eh?” 

"I would expect no less." 

“Good, 'cause that’s exactly what you’re getting, _Jetii_.” Jaster snorted and powered up the holo-board so they could start their game. And that’s how they spent the next couple of hours, talking, trying to outmaneuver one another strategically, and much to Jaster’s surprise, he had a lot of fun doing it. He probably laughed more in those two hours than he’d had in months. Which was telling in its own right.

It wasn’t that Jaster was hurting for companionship or friendship amongst his own people. But things were definitely easier with Plo Koon because the Jedi didn’t have the same expectations of him. The Kel Dor was also a surprisingly engaging conversationalist as well who seemed to have just a broad range of interests as Jaster did and that was somewhat hard to find in his typical conversational partners. 

He loved his people but for the most part, they weren’t scholars and tended to concentrate their efforts and interests on very narrow but often deep wealth of knowledge surrounding things like warfare, strategy, or weapons. 

Eventually, however, Tyvokka paged them both over the ship’s onboard communication system and Jaster very nearly leap out of his skin as he startled at the unexpected dull roar of the Wookie’s full-throated growl suddenly assaulted his ears from the speaker above them. 

“Kark me sideways.”

“He says we have reached Ord Cestus and to please strap in for a landing.” Plo Koon translated with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“Something tells me that’s not a direct translation of what he’s saying cause he doesn’t seem like the type to say please.” 

“I may have added that on to be polite,” Plo admitted a little chagrined.

“Maybe don’t give up the ascetic monk gig and try to take a protocol droid’s job just yet.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I am considering a career change in the near future.” The Jedi drawled with a trace of irony in his voice.

“That’s me, just full of helpful job advice.” Jaster matched him sarcasm for sarcasm as an almost imperceptible shiver ran through the ship when it hit atmo. The dampers were so high-class on this barge, it cut through the planet’s upper atmosphere so smoothly the Mandalorian barely even felt it. Unlike his ship that often felt like it was an over-burdened convor struggling to cut through the atmosphere gracelessly.

He almost felt a pang of guilt for comparing it to his own much-beloved but beat-up ship that wouldn’t have made an atmospheric entry nearly as smoothly. Still, as fancy and nice as this pleasure yacht was, at least he knew with his ship, it wasn’t potentially paid for with blood-money. Jaster didn’t know who the rightful owner of this crate was but if a _Jetii_ felt morally alright stealing it out from under their noses, he doubted they were particular virtuous and honorable people. 

No, he’d take his ship any day of the week.

“Were you able to make contact with your people?” Plo Koon asked suddenly because he of course hadn’t been there when Jaster had made the call. 

“Yes, they will meet me there.”

“Good, I am glad.” The Jedi stated with forced cheer and something in his voice seemed to catch Jaster’s attention because that helmeted face turned back towards him rather than paying attention to his next move.

“What?”

“I beg your pardon?” For the first time, Jaster got a distinct feeling the Kel Dor was playing at obfuscation and he didn’t care for it one bit.

“Don’t play coy with me, what’s going on in that head of yours? You almost sound disappointed right there. I know I'm an irresistible conversationalist and all but you’re hopefully headed right to a hospital and I have a certain worm I need to have a long conversation with.”

“Not disappointed exactly.” The Jedi hedged, visibly searching for the appropriate words. Jaster noticed once again there was a subtle shift in the Kel Dor’s skin tone. “I am glad you are not going to be running directly into danger all alone, I don’t think that would end well for you, Jaster. It’s not an insult to your abilities, I just know the strength that Qadab has to draw upon and it is too much for one man, even one as skilled as yourself.”

“I know we Mando have a well-earned reputation as being hot-blooded but even I’m not foolish enough to stroll in that sleemo’s nest all alone.”

“Then I am relieved and I won’t spend my time recuperating worrying over you trying to take on the Hutt and his men all alone.” 

Hearing the Jedi so casually mention being worried about him surprised Jaster on a multitude of levels because that implied Plo Koon was emotionally invested in him and his safety. It should have sounded absolutely laughable but somehow it wasn't. A Jedi caring about a Mandalorian, especially one he barely knew? But then, he stopped and actually examined what had transpired in the past day and he realized that wasn’t exactly true at all, was it? 

He certainly felt as though he knew more about Plo Koon than he’d expected considering they’d only known each other for such a short time. But the two of them had talked about a wide variety of subjects and more importantly, Jaster realized he _enjoyed_ talking with Plo Koon. Enjoyed spending time with the man. He found himself faced with a question he’d never thought he’d have to ask himself. Had he found himself becoming friends with a kriffing _Jetii_? 

A good and proper Mandalorian would have laughed the idea off or found a way to put as much distance between himself and the Kel Dor but maybe Jaster wasn’t as good a Mandalorian as he’d thought himself to be.

“Give me your communication code.” He found himself blurting suddenly, almost without even consciously considering what he’d just said. 

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll com you once we’re done with Qadab, that way you don’t have to worry.” It was official, he’d lost his _shabla_ mind. But Plo Koon readily handed over his code and Jaster input it into his comlink.

They both felt the nearly imperceptible thump as the ship landed and Jaster busied himself with making sure he had everything packed up in his rucksack. “If I find out something useful I think can help with your investigation, I’ll pass it along your way.” 

“Volunteering to share information, Jaster?” Plo teased lightly. 

“Consider it payback for the ride.” Not that he thought for a minute the two Jedi would have left him floating in the black, it just wasn’t in their makeup to do something that callous. But Jaster didn’t like to be in anyone’s debt even if it was a pretty thin excuse to give himself a reason to make contact with the Jedi. He wasn’t going to examine that too closely, no sir, he most certainly was not thank you very much. 

“I would appreciate that, thank you.” With some difficulty and a quiet hiss that betrayed how much pain he truly was in, the Kel Dor levered himself upright just as Tyvokka’s heavy footsteps approached. He barked at Plo Koon and hurried over to his former student's side so that he could reach out with one hair arm and helped support the younger Jedi’s weight. The way the Wookie was clearly chastising his former Padawan needed no translation. 

“I am okay, Tyvokka, the medical droids have treated my wounds quite adequately.” Plo Koon tried to reason with his former master and the Wookie wasn’t hearing it apparently because he growled and yowled at the Kel Dor loudly. 

Jaster debated trying to come to Plo Koon’s aid but he’d known enough Wookies in his life to know better than to anger them. 

“It might be easier to just do what he says, Plo.” Jaster pointed out blandly. 

Tyvokka apparently agreed with him because the great hairy beast chortled and nodded his head before steering Plo Koon in the direction of the airlock. Jaster followed along behind them and once the airlock cycled, it let in a wash of fresh air. With it came the smells and sounds of a busy spaceport but to his surprise, they were met by a medical transport and a pair of aliens dressed in gear bearing the sign of medical personnel. 

Curbside service, apparently it must be nice to be a kriffing _Jetii_. 

“Well, looks like your ride is here. Try not to give the poor doctors any more conniptions, huh?” The Mandalorian said with ill-disguised amusement as the two EMT’s hurried into action and started to load Plo Koon onto the gurney. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” The Jedi protested, feigning innocent 

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” He rolled his eyes even though neither Jedi nor the EMT’s could see him. “I’ll catch you later. Tyvokka, it’s been...interesting.” 

The Wookie said something back in Shyriiwook but Jaster hadn’t the foggiest clue what he meant and he slanted a questioning look at Plo Koon as the beast thrust out his giant paw at him in a universal offer for a handshake. With a small amount of trepidation, Jaster offered his hand back and winced as the Wookie squeezed his fingers and shook his hand a little too enthusiastically. 

“Tyvokka says thank you again for saving my life and he looks forward to meeting you again.” 

As tempting as it was to say he hoped he never crossed paths with the beast again, Jaster wasn’t dumb enough to say that while the Wookie had hold of his hand still and he could have sworn he saw a gleam of amused mischief in the creature’s eyes. Yeah, Tyvokka was definitely laughing at him, the _chakaar_.

“Hopefully it won’t be too soon.” He drawled as he extracted his hand from the Wookie’s paw and Tyvokka gave another bark of unmistakable laughter. What the kriff had his life come to that he was sassing a damn Wookie _Jetii_ and making nice with his people’s mortal enemies? That he found himself genuinely _liking_ the _chakaare_ at that? 

He obviously needed to return home, get his head back on straight. Jaster looked over at Plo one last time and nodded ever so slightly at the Kel Dor. 

“Cee-Zee, let’s go.” Jaster called over his shoulder at the med droid that had been floating anxiously near the airlock, visibly torn between following its programming and the patient and listening to his master but the little med droid fell into line and zipped after Jaster.

“Are you sure the patient will be okay?” It asked, shooting another look over its shoulder.

“He’s a Jedi, he’s going to get the best medical care this dump has to offer, don’t worry about it. 

Thankfully, the droid seemed to be satisfied by that and let the subject drop as it followed along obediently behind him. He was debating whether it would be smarter to just power it down and carry it rather than risk attracting attention or having it unexpectedly wander off in the crowd of the spaceport and its surrounding area because Jaster didn’t know how long he was going to be stuck here when his comlink suddenly flickered to life as he received an incoming signal. 

“Jaster here.”

“Jaster? We’re landing now, what is your location?” He instantly recognized Jango’s voice and felt a flash of warmth kindle in his heart. The boy didn’t call him _buir_ , the traditional Mandalorian word for a parent but that didn’t mean he didn’t love the boy like he was his own flesh and blood. But he’d had a father and Jaster wasn’t going to step on the proverbial grave of a dead man demanding things he didn’t deserve. 

“Transmitting now, _adi’ka_. It’s good to hear your voice.” Jaster tried to pack as much affection and meaning as he could into that sentence. He knew a combination of the trauma of losing his birth-family and also mourning for his parents and dead sister had left its lingering scars on Jango’s psyche. The boy was so bound and determined to be a warrior like Jaster and the rest of the True Mandalorians that he was afraid the lad was going to miss all the best parts of childhood.Jaster had done what he could to make sure Jango had as close to a proper childhood as any _Mando’ade_ child could hope for.

Admittedly, compared to the rest of the universe, that probably looked truly alien considering the boy was going on military operations with them full-time at this point but he still wanted the boy to also have time to play, live in his own head, and think about what he wanted from his future.

“You too, Jaster.” It could have been his imagination but he thought he heard a waver in the boy’s voice. He could only imagine what was going through the boy’s head, if he’d spent the past day wondering if he’d been orphaned yet again, that he’d lost another father. That idea had a sharp pang of grief and pain stabbing right into Jaster’s heart and he silently promised himself he’d spent some time with Jango today, just the two of them. He wanted the boy to be reassured he wasn’t going anywhere. 

That he wasn’t going to lose a second father.

“What happened? You completely disappeared off our sensors, even the ship’s transponder went dead!” Jango halfway demanded answers and Jaster fought down a wince. 

“Ah, Jan’ika it’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a**
> 
> _Adi’ka_ \- Little one or child. The ‘ika indicates little   
>  _Aruetiise_ \- Outsiders  
>  _Buir_ \- Parent, gender neutral but father in this case  
>  _Di’kuta chakaare_ \- Stupid bastards is the gist  
>  _Manda_ \- Mandalorian concept of the afterlife, oversoul  
>  _Ner Vod_ \- My brother  
>  _Ori'ramikad_ \- Supercommando  
>  _Ret'urcye mhi_ \- Goodbye, brother, literally means ‘maybe we’ll meet again’  
>  _Shebs_ \- Backside or buttocks  
>  _Verd'ika_ \- Private though in this case think little soldier.

**Author's Note:**

> Swearing: Star Wars Edition!  
>  **Mando’a**  
>  _Aruetiise_ \- Traitors, foreigners, outsiders, in this case outsiders  
>  _Beskar'gam_ \- Armor, specifically made out of beskar or Mandalorian steel  
>  _Chakaare_ \- General term of abuse, used in the plural in this case so think jerks or bastards  
>  _Chakaaryc_ \- Low-life or rotten  
>  _Di'kut_ \- Idiot, stupid or worthless individual  
>  _Di'kutla Jetii_ \- Stupid Jedi  
>  _Haar'chak_ \- Damn it!  
>  _Hutt'uun_ \- A coward, the worst insult you can call someone in Mando’a  
>  _Jetii/Jetiise_ \- Jedi/Jedi plural  
>  _Jetii'kad_ \- Lightsaber, literally means Jedi sword  
>  _Narudar <_ \- Temporary ally, quite literally enemy of my enemy,  
>  _Osik_ \- Shit or dung  
>  _Shabla Jetii_ \- Screwed up Jedi  
>  _Shebs_ \- Buttocks or backside  
>  _Suvarir_ \- Understand?  
>  _Utreekov Jetii_ \- Foolish Jedi. Ah Mandalorians and their ever ending _love_ for Jedi, amirite?  
>  **Other Languages**  
>  _Farkled_ \- A disastrous situation, think SNAFU or a fucked up situation  
>  _Fierfek_ \- General Huttese curse means hex, or poison  
>  _Kark/Karking_ \- Expletive, I like to think of it as fuck or something along those lines  
>  _Kriff/Kriffing_ \- Same as above  
>  _Sleemo_ Huttese insult, think slimeball


End file.
